Again this year, I said it. And I'll probably say it again next year, too.
I do not like this day
because I no longer have my mother with me.
I'm sure some of you might think this strange.
If you have lost your mother,
then you understand.
I wrote this a long time ago,
and recently found it safely tucked away
in my documents.
I thought today would be a perfect time
to bring it out and share with you again.
I wish every single person in the world
would have known her - you would all be richer for it.
My mom ... She was kind, considerate, fun and funny. She could laugh at herself more than we could laugh at her, which happened often! She could cook and bake up a storm and she was a loyal friend. She loved to say "horse's ass" and kept a clean (immaculate!) house. She smoked cigarettes for years but liquor never touched her lips.
She grew up on a farm, her house burned to the ground when she was 12 years old and she used to cut the heads off chickens. And I guess that's why she never really enjoyed a chicken dinner.
She was a fantastic dancer
and taught me how to dance
when I was only knee-high.
I can still feel her rhythm as I stood on her feet with my arms wrapped around her legs as I moved with her.
She sat with me at the little table and chairs my father made me and taught me how to print my letters, learn my times tables and checked my homework. She quizzed me on my spelling words and taught me my prayers. She taught her mother everything she needed to know to obtain her citizenship but not at that little table and chairs.
She loved my father
and there was no other love for her - ever!
She loved my sister and me
and she loved her grandchildren
with every fiber of her being. She was not artistic.
Once in a while she'd go out on a limb
and polish her fingernails
but never wore make-up.
Putting on lipstick was a chore.
To watch her do this was comical.
She never plucked her eyebrows
but once in a while she'd let me do it for her
and she cried every time. She loved the color pink.
All shades. And hated the color yellow.
Learning how to properly walk
(heel-toe-heel-toe) after her brain surgery
and after shuffling for so many years
was something she worked on but never really grasped. My mother and father eloped
but had a church wedding
with window washers as their witnesses.
The renewed their vows
on their 50th and 60th wedding anniversaries. She was born at home,
spoke Slovak with her mother, sisters and brother.
She loved watching football.
Many times she would watch
one game on the television
and have another game tuned in on the radio. She was unselfish.
My mother loved to watch the monkeys at the zoo.
She was not rich
but she would give you the shirt off her back.
And she loved to fish!
She was prom queen
and didn't like the gardenia corsage
my father gave her.
she said she could still smell
"that stinky flower." She was small in stature,
was always cold
and could be seen sitting in the sun
wearing a sweater - in Florida.
Her coloring was olive
and she always had a great tan. She loved to camp and said her prayers every day.
She cared for her mother in her home
for many, many years.
She was the baby of the family,
had only one brother but five sisters. She collected eggs from the hen house.
She was afraid of thunder and lightening.
She worked her fingers to the bone
and had endless energy. She was a good neighbor and everybody loved her.
They all congregated on our stoop
every evening after dinner.
She played with the kids in the yard
and put crackers on the end of her fishing line
and taunted the birds as she cast out into the air. She had the best patch of parsley behind the garage.
She was always ashamed of her nose
and covered it all the time. My mother was awesome.
She was easy going, loved to 'spot deer'
and she was incredible.
She never learned to swim.
She always did without
so that her daughters
could have everything we needed. She raised me in a remodeled chicken coop
and we visited the little house
at the end of the path during the day.
In the evening,
porcelain containers were brought in from their airings
and placed under the beds.
It was in the front yard of this home
that she picked peaches off the tree.
One time she disturbed bees
and they went up the leg of her shorts
causing her to strip down to nothing. She canned apples,
made applesauce and apple pies.
She loved to play softball and volleyball. And BINGO! Her mother lived to be 103.
That gave me such a false sense of security.
I figured since she was so like her mother
that she'd live to be 103
and quite possibly outlive me.
That didn't happen.
She died way before her time. She waited for me to get there
before slipping into a coma.
I'll hold that memory close to my heart
for the rest of my life. She was all these things and more
and anybody that knew her would have to agree.
As I wrote this I smiled,
and I laughed out loud
at a few of the memories. And at some, I had to blink to release the tears that formed in my eyes.
I miss you, Mom.
Happy Mother's Day.
I just wish you were here
so that we could have one more dance together.
*** The first Mother's Day after we lost her,
I created this mini album as a gift for my sister. celebrate mom
She made the world a better place ...
She made a wish and we came true ...
CELEBRATE HER WISHES
She designed a life she loved ...
CELEBRATE HER JOY
She had a way of brightening the day ...
CELEBRATE HER RADIANCE
She gave from the heart ...
CELEBRATE HER GIFTS
She loved her family ...
CELEBRATE HER LOVE
Perhaps God is a Poet
Perhaps God is a poet
who writes with words
of flesh and bone and leaf and flower.
Every hour of every day,
words pour out of the poet's heart,
and every word is beautiful and true
and worth the telling.
And when each poem is perfect,
and there is no more which ought to be said,
the poet gently takes the words
back into his heart, where they are safe forever ...