My Mother

For those of you who have asked – this is the remembrance that John read at the funeral.

I cannot find my tennis shoes.  I’ve been looking for them for a couple of days now – in closets, in the laundry room, underneath the piano.  It seems my mother has put them in a safe place and didn’t mention it to me.

That’s the way she is – my mother.  Cleaning up, picking up, organizing.  She bought folders for paperwork, kept stamps in a special container, put the extra boxes of Kleenex in a cabinet downstairs.  Everything had a place.  Everything.

And she was the only one who knew where everything was.

Even in college, I can remember calling her to ask her where something was.  And she knew.  She had put it away so it wouldn’t get lost.

My mother.

My mother was my anchor.  My mother was my compass.  If she was upset, I was upset.  If she was worried, I was worried.  If she was elated, it rubbed off on me.

My mother traveled miles and miles and hours and hours to be with me.  She held my babies when they were first born. She brought me everything I could have ever wanted and more.

I had just shy of 29 years with my mother and it was not enough time.  I’m not sure that 100 years with my mother would have been enough, but 29 was most certainly not.  But I am beyond grateful for the time that I did have – for the time that we talked on the phone – every single day – for the times that we spent face to face, and for the time that she had with my girls.

I will miss my mother.


4 thoughts on “My Mother

  1. What a special relationship you had with your mom. Thank you for sharing this. I’ve been thinking about you so much this week. Praying for you as you grieve…

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