CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Word Count: 746
My mother was a beautiful and intelligent woman, and clearly, my father loved her, always. I remember the way she smiled at me when I drew things for her, and she always smelled like some kind of wonderful flower. She made me smile for no reason at all, because, so simply, she was my mother and she loved me very much. Now, in the current point of my life, there isn’t much to be said for her physical presence in my life. I knew my mother, as someone who was alive, for under a decade, before she and my father were killed. In their death, both my parents had a lasting influence on my life. Of course, their absence caused it to be a different one than would have been, had they been alive and raised me to adulthood, but nonetheless, they made an impact on my life, a lasting one, which has continued through to this day, and onwards.
I have probably learned, and remembered, a lot more about both my mother and my father, since their death, than I knew when they were both alive. Of course I do, as, at eight years old, I never really had the inclination to learn that much about where my parents had come from, or the back history of their respective families. I just knew that their families were small, barely there at all, and I knew that my aunt was the only person I would ever see from my family, other then, of course, my parents. That is all I knew, really, at such a young age, but, after that, as I grew older, I sought to learn more, and indeed I did. While I may not look like it, I am Greek. My parents were from Virginia, my father was in the army, and my mother was an accountant. These things I knew also as a child, but I was able to elaborate on them further, as I found more of what I could find, of my back history.
By the time they were killed, both sets of my grandparents were already dead. I was born at the end of the decade following the World War II, and while my parents had been alive during the war, it was not their own persons that were affected directly, more their families. While I lack the want to go in depth into the bits of information that I do know, suffice it to say that my mother and my father had very little close family left by the time I was born, and even less by the time my parents were killed.
I have always believed that my mother was a wonderful person. I know this to be true because she always loved me, no matter what I did or how I acted towards her. From the memories I have left of her looking at me, smiling at me, talking to me, her eyes were, in some way, always filled with unconditional love. While I myself am not a soppy, sad hearted person, this is just a simple fact that I know. My mother loved me, deeply, and this was evident by the way she treated me, the way she looked at me and hugged me before putting me to bed as a child. She read me stories, took me to the park, bought me presents when it wasn’t my birthday.
I loved my mother, and I always will, because she was my parent, my mother, my Mom. Much like the lasting love I have for my father, nothing will ever make me stop loving her. Nothing, will ever make me stop loving my parents, ever. They were two people in my early life who loved me unconditionally, and who died tragically. I keep their memory alive, simply by remembering them, and the god times we shared together. No matter how much their death affected me, it spurned me on in life, and while I regret their death, I know that I came out of it alive, and then became the best person I could be. They would have been proud of the man I became, the man I am today, that I am sure of. I love my parents very much, and they loved me back, that is simple. I loved my mother very much, and she loved me back, that is the truth, that is the complete and utter truth, and it always will be.