MaryHelen Cuellar [MH or Mimi]

  1943 -
  City of Birth:
Macon, Georgia
 
 

MaryHelen's Story

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It Has Been A Rough Year

I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome.  I wish ...


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The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins

The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.   http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp ot.com/2008/03/an other-2-prayer-re quest-answered.ht ml


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MaryHelen's Story > Chapters > My Children

"Through the Eyes of a Mother, Snapshot Memories, Jason, Boy to Man" 

 

Date Range: 01/01/1962 To 12/31/2003   Comments: 0   Views: 3,275
Attachments: No
 

The childbirth is over after much anticipation, quickly, as if the baby boy didn’t want to cause his mother any trouble…..at all.  The dark eyed, dark haired baby lays in his crib in the hospital delivery room looking around, not crying, solemn, as if to say, “What manner of place is this?”  Already thinking……..

 

The toddler runs through the house happily….stops at the refrigerator, throws together a sandwich, runs back to his play, completely independent.

 

Christmas morning, amid the debris of the presents, the mother looks for her three year old son; finds him on a stool in the kitchen, writing a thank you note to Santa all on his own.

 

“When do you work, Mom?” the seven year old asks, making a schedule of his parent’s time to determine when he can spend the optimum time with each…..his idea.

 

His father sits on a bench at a mall, waiting patiently as his seven year old son goes from store to store with a notebook, writing what he can purchase for his family and the cost, adds it up, goes back for approval from his dad of the amount, and the cash.  Then goes from store to store again to purchase the gifts according to his plan.  (Good thing it was his dad; his mother would never have let him go alone).

 

In a burgundy jacket with gray slacks, dressed up, the nine year old watches his beloved older sister’s wedding.  With tear streaked face, he holds her arm, stands proudly for the pictures.

 

“Your son belongs in the Talented and Gifted Program,” says the young bespectacled teacher to the proud parents of the fourth grader playing with his friends without a care.

 

It is Halloween; little boys roam the house in costume, swinging at the piñata outside, awaiting the annual slumber party for yet another October birthday.

 

His mother sits in her car, watching her son cross the schoolyard as all the sixth grade boys rush to greet him, swarming, circling around, vying for his attention as he laughs.

 

“No,” says his mother, “I am not going to give another party this year, too expensive.”  The fourteen year old sells tickets, rents a hall, hires a disc jockey and arranges for chaperones and food, gives a terrific party.

 

There is a flash of silver, and the mother cringes as her young teen-age son drives quickly away in his first new car, sporty as chosen by him, too fast, his mother thinks…the car and his life.

 

The one-year old looks bewildered, surrounded by balloons, presents, and fifty of his parent’s friends and family at his first birthday party…..on his sixteenth birthday, he looks….happy…surrounded by balloons, presents, and fifty of his friends and family, arranged, of course, by himself.

 

Marveling, the mother watches her college bound son find a roommate, a place to live, arrange financing for his studies and books, find a school job, and move himself to college.

 

“I always knew you’d be President some day,” said his mother when he was elected President of his business fraternity; the crowd cheers, mortars fly, and the young man beams at his graduation.

 

Despite the tears in his eyes, his voice never falters as he speaks at his father’s funeral of the love and devotion he felt for his father and his father’s pride, love and devotion given unconditionally to him.

 

Recruited by one of the top 5 accounting firms, always working hard, holding full-time jobs in high school and college; upon that firm’s demise, he doesn’t skip a beat, but betters himself.

 

Knowing he works hard at relationships (one lasted five years—starting in high school), his mother has faith the right woman will come along and appreciate him for all he is.

 

“Any problems growing up, count on the fingers of one hand,” says his mother, “A good son;” he calls and visits his mother often, cares deeply for his family; his mom, sisters, aunt, nieces and nephews adore him.

 

His mother knows that someday he will be an adored husband and father as well.

 

Happy 28th birthday, son.  (October 27, 2003)

 

Love, Mom

 

After this was written my son was sent to Frankfurt, Germany to be the company’s liason there and to implement new practices and hire his replacement.  He learned the language, traveled and without skipping a beat, performed all required of him before the expected time;  made so many friends they gave him a surprise party for his thirtieth birthday.  The good son (he is my only, so I can say that) brought his mother over for her first overseas trip, business class, of course, and took her to Rome and Paris (another story in itself).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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