Sunday is Mother’s Day, nearly a year since my mother passed and a final of firsts for me, my first Mother’s Day without my mother and the final event of the past year of marking each first without her.
Last Mother’s Day, I flew to Texas to see my mom and I realized it would be our last together. Since her surgery the prior October, her health had dramatically declined. Over the years I tried to travel to see her on Mother’s Day and her birthday. They were special occasions for her, ones that if missed, she would feel slighted and perhaps unloved.
Those set apart occasions that the greeting card and florist benefit from are not so important to me. I appreciate the love and attention I receive year-round, sometimes it is just a simple text to say “Hi” or “I am thinking of you.” Expressions that are sent without any expectation because of designated day are cherished in my heart.
Understand, my mother got many many expressions of my love throughout the year but those days were especially important to her, perhaps an old traditional way of thinking that this was a day set aside for Mothers, and because of that, she expected recognition and honor and I honored her.
In 2001, my mother came to visit me at Mother’s Day. We attended a Ladies Luncheon to honor mothers. The women in the group each wrote a short portrayal of their mother and shared it. Here is what I wrote May 12, 2001.
My mother was named Helen Patricia but she prefers to be called Patsy. One thing I admire about my mother is that she is able to get up in front of people and speak. Something I didn’t inherit from her. However, I really wanted to share something about her today. She lives in Texas; she writes poetry; she teaches and speaks to Women’s Groups at other Churches; she has been involved in the leadership of Girl Scouts. I grew up in a home with a believing, prayerful, faithful mother in the South at a time when prejudices and hatred surrounded us. But I grew up knowing no prejudice. My mother loved people; all people, she taught and had respect for everyone and she would do all she could to help others. For several years my mother was a single mom with three young children and although we did not have a lot, my mother always had something to share with others who had less. Whether it was a place to stay; a few dollars; a meal or just watching someone’s children so they could work. She always shared whatever she had with a grateful heart. My mother has also always had a love for elderly ladies. Today she teaches the senior ladies’ Sunday school class at her church and she has for the past twenty years. So many times people are too busy for the elderly, but my mother loves each one of her ladies as if they were her own mother or grandmother. She takes the time to be with them, look after them, minister to them. She would tell you that she has learned so much from these ladies and receives immeasurable blessings from knowing them. Over the years my mother has seen most all of her class go home to be with the Lord. At one time she had twenty ladies in her class now she has only four. The oldest is Mae; she is 104. Mae never had any children. Every week, my mother goes to her house, washes her dishes, answers her mail, brings her lunch and sits and eats lunch with her. When I go to visit my mother, I go around and visit with her ladies too. They tell me how sweet my mother is and I’d have to agree.
Now, Mother’s Day is a day with no plane trips, no cards, no flowers, no brunch but years’ worth of Mother’s Day memories. I pray where ever her spirit is today she knows that I tried to show her that I loved her. After this “final first” celebration without my mother, I wonder if I will begin to let go and not remind myself on each special day that she is gone or how many months have passed since she left? Will special occasions just be that or will they always be one without my mother?
Happy Mother’s Day, Mother. I did all I could to show my love, I hope you felt it.
Emyloom ~ Words Woven Within My Heart 