Mother's Day

Mother’s Day is tomorrow and I will not be celebrating with family. Without my mother, my sister and I cannot bring ourselves to have a gathering. We are both mothers, but Mom was the real focus of the day. I am having a hard time keeping tears from blocking my vision as I type.

I’ve been told grief is a process and all the first holidays without a loved one’s presence are the hardest. Mom’s birthday was April 29^th and she wasn’t there for me to call and wish her a Happy 94^th Birthday. We had a big bash for her 90^th birthday and told her we’d be having another one when she hit 100. But God only granted her three more years with us, and right before Christmas she silently slipped into the waiting arms of her Lord and Savior. She had often talked about seeing Dad again and now they are sharing the joy of the Lord.

To say I miss her is an understatement. Every holiday was made special by her presence. When someone reaches 90 and up, it’s pretty difficult to come up with gifts. But I managed to always surprise her. I think the thing that meant the most to her is when we invited her to come to New York with us to see Matthew graduate from West Point. Her still living siblings demanded photographic evidence that a 91-one-year old grandmother was actually able to make the journey. It was sheer grit and determination that made it happen. She wanted to see all her grandchildren graduate from college, and Matthew was the last. Her dream was fulfilled.

Being married to a serviceman meant moving frequently and having to manage a household often without his help because of missions he would be on. I didn’t see my father a lot in my younger childhood, but that wasn’t his fault. Because of his frequent absences, my mother became a stronger woman. She pretty much raised us. And by the time I came along she was 35 and having to keep up with the demands of a toddler while keeping tabs on my older siblings. I have always felt I was the one who turned her hair gray. If Ritalin had been available, I would have been on it.

My mother could be gentle and caring, but there was the ferocity of a bear that could arise if anyone slighted her children. I have a memory of being sent into a store to get some thread. I was around 8. I stood at the counter for the longest time because the cashier was waiting on adults and ignoring me. When I finally gave up and came back to the car empty-handed, my mother took my hand and marched me into the store and proceeded to ream that woman out about not taking care of me. She was hot! I was not embarrassed, I was in awe of this person who I called Mom. It was pretty impressive. She taught me by that incident that children are important. In my job today, I never ignore children who come for help.

But the upshot of this meandering blog entry is that I miss my mother and it hurts. No more hugs, no more motherly advice and the wisdom that comes from such a long and well-lived life. And hardest of all is not hearing her voice telling me she loves me, and grieving all the years I wandered from the faith, breaking her heart. No amount of wishing can turn back time.

What comfort I do have is knowing my parents are in heaven. And the promises of God that “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you…” (Isaiah 66:13). “Can a woman forget her nursing child or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands…” (Isaiah 49:15-16a).

But my mother never forgot me or forsook me. She modeled the tender love of the Lord. That is the inheritance of a God loving woman who bore me and nurtured me in the faith. And true to God’s word, when I grew older I did not depart from the faith, I returned to it. I feel raw with grief for I have no mother to honor tomorrow. But I knew her for 58 years. Some don’t get that much time, and some don’t even care. That is their terrible loss.

I wish all the mothers I know a very happy Mother’s Day. I have my precious son and we love each other. I tried to instill in him the same faith I was taught. I have loved him without fail. I have done my best to bring him up to be a good man. Perhaps in this I can still honor my mother, though she is no longer with us. To see my son, her grandson, live life as she did. Never giving up, never losing faith, and never stop loving. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I still love you more than I can say.