Oxnard-- Mother’s Day evokes both happy and sad memories from me since my Mother, Dolores Frost, died on February 12, 2004. remember the week she died and the phone call I got from my sister when I was in New Jersey, and she told me my Mother wouldn’t be alive much longer. The J-Train and I split our duties; I tackled my boss at work and told him I was going to my Mother.
The J-Train coordinated the travel arrangements, and I contacted my ex to tell her the kids were coming with me to Colorado to see their Grandmother. Affectionately known as “Ga.”
To this day, the most harrowing drive I ever made was heading to her from the Airport, and although The Sarge and the First Responder still refer to me as a little old man when I drive, I’ll tell you that I broke most of the speeding laws that day.
She passed away two days after we arrived, but I was there for her at the end and helped carry her casket to her grave. That was 19 years ago, but it sits in my mind like it’s still happening.
Good old Ga was a…
