Tomorrow will mark eight long years since my Mother left this plane of living and moved to a higher level of being. Some would call it heaven. I like to call it a far away vacation.
This incredible woman named Francine Lee Falkow, was born April 16, 1938 on the island known as Bronx, NYC, to a Russian immigrant Father and a second generation, American born Mother.
An only child, due to the problems with Rh negative blood factor pregnancies, (there was a lost child before and after her birth), Francine grew up in a household that was idyllic. Two parents who adored each other and her. It made for a trio of perfection.
Treated like the true princess she was, my Mother never missed a beat to bat her gorgeous green eyes at the boys, until the day she died. This was a woman who enjoyed being a girl. Doing girl things. In the days when she grew up, it was quite ok to be as frilly and girly as you wanted to be. After all, you had to catch a good husband.
She was smart in addition to her looks though, and just collecting a husband wouldn’t do. She studied at Drake University, rooming with a friend who apparently wasn’t that nice. Good wing woman material to find a husband. 😂
The phone rang on the 11th of May in 1956, with the news of her Father’s passing. And after that, she came home to continue her education and to keep her lonely and broken hearted, forty six year old Mother company.
She met my Father not long after that. Funny, I never asked her or him where they met. How do you never ask your parents that question? But I digress. They met somewhere obviously, and married in August of 1957.
She was a beautiful bride.
Eight years later they divorced.
I used to spend mornings watching her out on her makeup. Everything so expertly applies. This was a real woman. In the Elizabeth Taylor sense of the word. Baudy, strong, independent, and everything you’d expect of a woman with brains and beauty.
I was so jealous of her gorgeous green eyes. They were like two shimmering emeralds staring at you. I can only imagine the men those eyes won over.
All I really know is she loved me and was proud of me. She called me every morning at 9:30am to make sure I made it to work ok. Those calls occasionally annoyed me at their regularity. We spoke 5-10 times a day, depending on the day. Sometimes it was just to tell a joke or call to hang up on each other. We were two comedians in a pod.
8 years. 8 seconds. It doesn’t matter. Missing you cannot be measured by time. It is infinite and always will be.
What I wouldn’t give for one more, slightly annoying 9:30am call.
Francine Lee Falkow
April 16, 1938 to March 31, 2010