There is an awful lot of stuff about D.W. Cale on this site, well, it started out as his site so that isn't strange, but I wanted at least a page of this place to be about G.J. Cale. Jen Shunatona! She's the power behind the chaos in our family so here is where she will live on this site.
Now, as I'm just starting, this page is pretty much just me and my opinion, however I am open to any e-mailed additions and corrections. I might even act on those! Buh! So buckle up for the priliminary "Mrs. Cale" page!.
Gertrude Jen Shunatona was born to Charles George Shunatona and Mary Juliet Farrell. She met my father after college and married him. After having two daughters they moved to Amarillo, Texas where they had me and spent the rest of their lives.
Those are facts, here are truths. If my father was the heart of our family, my mother was the soul, the spirit and the conscience. She held us together in ways I’m sure many mother’s do, which all too often goes uncelebrated. My mother deserves to be celebrated.
My first memories are those of a toddler. Mom was my whole world and I have vivid memories of being put down for naps with her. She would sing me to sleep. (This was before I started snoring like my grandfather!) I felt so safe in those moments. She would sing “Molly Malone” and as I listened to those grisly lyrics about a poor orphan fishmonger who dies in the street that no harm would ever come to me. My mother’s love would always protect me. You never lose love. The person doesn't have to be next to you in order for you to feel their love. My Mom's love gets me through a lot of bad days. (If that makes me a “mama’s-boy” well, considering my Mom, no better praise is possible.)
Mom was quiet. She liked to laugh and joke and create good feelings in any room she was in. -but she was quiet. She had a strength that didn't need volume. She was a resilient security force for her children. She did what she thought was right for us her whole life. She looked out for her family. She looked out for her students and somewhere along the way I’m so, so sorry that quite often nobody was looking out for her. -She never complained. She never even complained when we, her entire family, once forgot her birthday. How do you not complain when you’re entire family forgets your birthday? She was amazing and we loved her so much.
I have a million memories, but the last are the closest so they stick out.
The last time I saw her alive she was in the hospital. She seemed a bit distant, maybe not as present as she used to be, but still loving. Her eyes spoke volumes and then when she spoke you could see she was there, she was just so tired. She came around and smiled and even joked a little about her circumstances. To my unaccepting mind she looked as if she could just get up and leave is she wanted to, but the reality was she was barely in good enough shape for company.
On this visit, my last, a priest came in and Dad and I prayed over her as he administered last rites. This was too soon, I thought. It was surreal to me, just as surreal as the time I stood by her in another hospital room years before while another doctor told her she had breast cancer. I had no words to offer back then. I was a teenager and had no basis of understanding what was going on. I had no real concept of what I should be feeling. Mom noticed me standing against the wall behind the crowd of family and medical people and she just looked at me. She took a deep breath and gave me a slight smile. She understood what I was going through even as she was going through the toughest stuff a person faces. She made a connection with me that made me less afraid.
But now, on this last day, in this new hospital room, even though I had the knowledge that she had once beaten breast cancer, I was confused. She was a survivor, wasn't she? -but not this time?
I knew somehow that this would be different. I could just sense I would never see her alive again.
I pushed that away and smiled as I said my goodbyes and hugged her gently. When Dad and I left the room I looked back and she was staring after me. We looked into each other’s eyes and there was an understanding. We both knew it would be the last time we saw each other. –and it wasn’t okay. I was lost again, not knowing how I was supposed to act, or to say. -but as we stared at each other she made it okay. She held my gaze and I felt her strength. She gave me another connection and in that a little understanding. She was like that, always giving lessons where they were needed. -and it was okay. -at least as okay as it could be.
-And, that's all for today. I love you Mom.
-Charlie