Judy always wore work dresses, pantyhose and low-heel pumps, wispy hair lumped into place with AquaNet. I’ll bet she learned that watching TV, a wannabe housewife working as a billing clerk, better than outpicking your brothers in the cotton fields. Those boys were both jerks to her. She lived at home, chauffeured her mother around. No friends to be found. Read True Story magazines while she daydreamed of her Prince Charming. She bought him purple ankle socks and other silly gifts. When they married, hospital shifts riffed into managing his business. She adopted her little sister after her mother died. When a stroke affected speech and she could no longer walk, she lived over a decade in a nursing home, alone with all the other souls who could no longer self-suffice. I was there the night she died. The nurse sent us out to check Judy, then came to say she’d gone. I know she wanted it that way, to say a final Fuck You! We who never had the time to visit her while living did not get to use her passing as a means of self-forgiving.
7 thoughts on “Judy”
This is very powerful. I see where, at the time, you saw the emptiness of your life. Nobody in your family cared to be there for you. Your mom was completely ignorant and your siblings inherited that ignorance.
You saw the futility of your life and even wrote this sardonic, satirical ‘ode’ to your mom.
I think you did a beautiful job accurately expressing yourself in this piece.
Actually this is about my dad’s sister Judy who I suspect was on the spectrum. That was her life.
Oh, I misunderstood. So sorry. How embarrassing!
Nah, no worries. I totally get it.
But yeah, now that I think about it, I see what you mean.
So many of us have should of would of could of. So many live hard lives with sharp endings. If this is real sorry for your loss .,either way a beautiful write
This was short but I feel like I know Judy personally after this post. Wow. Judy was amazing and I Stan for her