Tomorrow is Mother's Day

I do not like Mother's Day.

There.

I said it.

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.

Years later,

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 ...

CELEBRATE HER

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

Author Unknown

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 ...

and then begins again.

Her life, her love ... what a gift!