Today it is my privilege to honor a very amazing lady, one who has demonstrated selfless love to me this past year more than any other year in my life.
Having grown up in a home with her five sisters, she was raised by a revolving supply of housekeepers and an emotionally absent father, a tiny victim of a very messy divorce that left her without her mother since she was three. I never really stopped to think about the many years Mother’s Day must have brought her so much pain. To watch her friends celebrate their moms, not even being able to call or write to hers must have brought an ache I can not comprehend. I never realized the inner strength it took to raise her own children so well without the memories of a loving, doting mother in her own life.
Yet she selflessly loved my two brothers, sister, and me.
This past November, after faithfully taking care of my dad during his more than ten year battle with the illness that would take him from her, watching him struggle to breath for so long, she said good-bye to her husband and best friend of 60 years.
I watched as she almost ran to him any time he had a need. How she journaled every medicine and set alarms so she wouldn’t forget his next dose. How she played Rummy with him day after day, month after month, until the rules didn’t make sense to him anymore. How they held hands, laughed at their own inside jokes, and told each other how much they loved each other. How she put her life on hold year after year, and did so with joy.
And then when the day came that he didn’t wake up anymore, after he had breathed his final breath, her first reaction wasn’t sadness, or loneliness, or anger. It was relief that her best friend and soulmate wasn’t suffering anymore. She was so happy for him that it had gone so well, and he no longer struggled to breathe. She knew he was celebrating in Heaven with his Savior, and with family and friends who had left this world before him.
We all waited for her to retreat into her home and flounder and search for ways to fill her time and find new purpose. But that never happened. The first few days were spent getting rid of every medicine, oxygen cord, anything that reminded her of my Dad’s illness. “He doesn’t need any of this anymore,” she frankly said. Of course she was right, but really?
The next plan was to finish all of the thank you notes to everyone who played a part in the funeral, to those who helped provide food, and to anyone who made the effort to attend.
So, did she spend the next days, weeks, months, sitting back and mourning? No, she’s too busy serving others. She has looked up old friends, especially those who have lost husbands due to death or divorce. She helps out at the community food pantry four mornings a week, and volunteers two afternoons at a nursing home. And this past winter, when she got home in the evenings, she crocheted mittens for the children who visited the pantry. Oh, and her church needed volunteers help serve at the church spaghetti supper, so she added that to her list as well. I can’t get ahold of her at all on Mondays; that’s the day she does all three.
While we were wondering what she would do when my Dad was gone, she was praying. She was getting her next marching orders. She knows something I’m just beginning to grasp. Her selfless love has given her a perspective on the brevity of this life and the endless joy of eternity with her Lord and Savior whom she so faithfully loves and serves. Her good-bye to my Dad wasn’t really “Good-bye.” It was, “see you soon.”
Mom, you have loved your children so well. You have faithfully stood by your man for better and worse, in sickness and in health. You are still loving anyone you come in contact with, with a Love so much bigger than yourself. I am in awe of you, Mom.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day. You deserve the honor of your children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and the many others you love and serve so well.
I watched as she almost ran to him any time he had a need. How she journaled every medicine and set alarms so she wouldn’t forget his next dose. How she played Rummy with him day after day, month after month, until the rules didn’t make sense to him anymore. How they held hands, laughed at their own inside jokes, and told each other how much they loved each other. How she put her life on hold year after year, and did so with joy.
And then when the day came that he didn’t wake up anymore, after he had breathed his final breath, her first reaction wasn’t sadness, or loneliness, or anger. It was relief that her best friend and soulmate wasn’t suffering anymore. She was so happy for him that it had gone so well, and he no longer struggled to breathe. She knew he was celebrating in Heaven with his Savior, and with family and friends who had left this world before him.
We all waited for her to retreat into her home and flounder and search for ways to fill her time and find new purpose. But that never happened. The first few days were spent getting rid of every medicine, oxygen cord, anything that reminded her of my Dad’s illness. “He doesn’t need any of this anymore,” she frankly said. Of course she was right, but really?
The next plan was to finish all of the thank you notes to everyone who played a part in the funeral, to those who helped provide food, and to anyone who made the effort to attend.
So, did she spend the next days, weeks, months, sitting back and mourning? No, she’s too busy serving others. She has looked up old friends, especially those who have lost husbands due to death or divorce. She helps out at the community food pantry four mornings a week, and volunteers two afternoons at a nursing home. And this past winter, when she got home in the evenings, she crocheted mittens for the children who visited the pantry. Oh, and her church needed volunteers help serve at the church spaghetti supper, so she added that to her list as well. I can’t get ahold of her at all on Mondays; that’s the day she does all three.
While we were wondering what she would do when my Dad was gone, she was praying. She was getting her next marching orders. She knows something I’m just beginning to grasp. Her selfless love has given her a perspective on the brevity of this life and the endless joy of eternity with her Lord and Savior whom she so faithfully loves and serves. Her good-bye to my Dad wasn’t really “Good-bye.” It was, “see you soon.”
Mom, you have loved your children so well. You have faithfully stood by your man for better and worse, in sickness and in health. You are still loving anyone you come in contact with, with a Love so much bigger than yourself. I am in awe of you, Mom.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day. You deserve the honor of your children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and the many others you love and serve so well.
