First Posted: 5/8/2015
This year’s Mother’s Day is different.
This year we celebrate with Mom as a resident in a nursing home. It’s bittersweet. Mom is still with us at the age of 87, but watching her suffer from dementia is tough.
As a child, I would try to make Mother’s Day and Father’s Day special for my parents. My mother didn’t care how much money I spent as long as she received a card. She loved my handmade cards.
My family was never the “Leave it to Beaver” kind of clan and the words “I love you” rarely flowed easily, but we all did love each other.
With Dad working two jobs and Mom working an evening shift, we had little supervision, but my older brother and younger sister managed to keep peace and order. We had no parties; not many friends came over after school, and most of the time Mom had chores for us that included vacuuming and making dinner.
Don’t get me wrong, though, we had good times. Mom loved family. She loved family gatherings and holidays. She baked and cooked like no tomorrow and was a first-class cook. There isn’t anything she couldn’t make. Nobody ever left my house hungry.
Holidays, especially Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas, were when she shined. Cookies, cakes, pies and Italian foods were commonplace. No fancy meal was complete without her homemade ravioli or lasagna. Her sauce (never “gravy” in my home) was second to none.
In addition to her mastery of the kitchen, she made sure our house was spic and span. She cleaned the entire house, top to bottom, practically every change of the seasons. She had summer drapes, fall drapes, winter drapes (with fiberglass backing for insulation) and sheers for every window.
When Mom bought new parlor furniture, it was covered in clear plastic. Who does that? We couldn’t even sit in the parlor because she didn’t want us to ruin the plastic protecting the furniture.
That plastic stayed on the furniture for at least 20 years. I felt liberated when it was removed.
I can laugh about those things now because Mom is who made me the person I am. She taught me that hugging and kissing everyone was important and it was the way to make someone feel loved. Again, even though we didn’t say it, we felt love.
We felt Mom’s love in her hugs, in her cooking and in her keeping a clean house and roof over our heads. We felt love in how she taught us to keep our possessions nice and new for as long as possible.
Mom is in the winter months of her life now. She has a hard time making sense when she talks, cannot walk well and is wheelchair-bound. Not too long ago, I stared at her and said, “Mom, I never thought it would be like this.” She looked back and, with clarity of mind and voice, said, “Neither did I.”
It’s hard to see her in this state, but that’s the circle of life. Nobody knows how it will end. I know when I get to the end of my life, I will think of my mother and probably call out her name — for it is my mother who gave me life and it will be my mother who will be waiting for me and accept me into her arms once more.
Much love to you, Ma! Happy Mother’s Day.
Quote of the week
“Though Mother’s Day celebrations and gifts will vary, many consumers see this as an important day to honor the women in their lives. With all the sacrifices mom has made over the years, Mother’s Day is an opportunity to give something back.” – Tracy Mullin
Thought of the week
“Mothers hold their children’s hands for a short while, but their hearts forever.” – Anonymous
Bumper sticker
“The mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom.” – Henry Ward Beecher, American Congregationalist clergyman.
