I wrote this in 2010 and I offer it to you again today because I could not think of anything to add to it. I still miss her…
Mother’s Birthday
I won’t bother to tell you how old mother would have been today because she isn’t here to celebrate the numbers anymore. That should be a reminder to those of us who sometimes moan and groan about getting older. The alternative is forever. And while we rejoice in the idea of going home to Jesus one day, we are spoiled to the rewards of being here with family and miss those who go before us. I suppose ideally we’d just like to be here until Jesus returns to earth and then all go to heaven together. Doesn’t work that way…
Those of us left behind mourn and grieve and wallow in self pity for a time, and then we move on. Mom has been dead for eleven years and I’ve stopped crying, but I’ll never stop missing her. I can’t work in a profession where there are mothers everywhere, everyday, without thinking about my own.
I was thinking just last night about some of the things that have changed since Mom’s death. She would not approve of some of the things that have changed in our family. She would hate some of the things that other people are doing. She would be astonished by our progress in some areas, but appalled by the so-called progress in others. Mom had very strong, old-fashioned values. Mom loved modesty, honesty, and kindness. She loved family, children, and education. She wanted everyone to get along and make the world a better place. And she spent years telling people that in her writing.
Mom wasn’t much of a public speaker, but she was never shy behind the typewriter. She told the world about her depression, her family problems, her feelings, and her failings, always with the hope that she would prevent someone else from stumbling along the same path. I can’t tell you the number of people who have sought me out to thank me for mother’s words. She would love that.
I’m privileged to have pages and pages of mother’s words. I have many of her original manuscripts, short stories, newspaper columns, and letters. I even have some letters written to her by friends and family members. She tucked them away in files and folders. She treasured the words of others as much as her own.
I suppose that the best tribute to someone who has passed on is to try to fulfill their expectations. Mom expected me to be strong, modest, honest, kind, and moral. She expected me to care about people. She expected me to make a difference in the world. She expected me to continue to tell the stories of our family that would help others with their own. I’m trying…
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