When I flipped over my daily calendar at work, today’s date garnered my attention like a neon sign flashing in the darkness of night. Today marks the 12th anniversary of my mother’s passing from this life into the next.
At first, overwhelming sadness consumed me as I remembered this day when my mother succumbed to that evil disease called cancer. After 19 long days of being hospitalized, she just quietly and peacefully stopped breathing while my sister, my father and I kept vigil beside her.
Remembering that day makes me want to cry. It doesn’t matter how many years pass since you lost your mother or how old you’ve become, part of you still wants your mommy.
So yes, I miss my mom terribly. I miss her voice, I miss her loving hugs, I miss the way she loved all of her grandchildren. I miss her laughter, I miss her cooking and baking, I miss her sense of fun. I miss her strong determination. I miss her sewing and craft projects.
I miss the way her face would light up with joy when we came home to visit and I miss her tears as we parted. I miss her little notes about this thing or that. I miss chatting on the phone with her. I miss her love for growing things whether they were flowers or vegetables. I miss…everything about her.
But even though I feel the void with her gone, I see her still. I see her love for shoes, shoes and more shoes evidenced in my oldest daughter. I see her love for baking cookies and scrumptious goodies demonstrated in my middle daughter. I see her willful resolve proven in my son.
I see the strong, capable hands of my mother when I glance at my middle sister’s hands while she prepares tasty meals in her kitchen, just like my mother used to do. I see my mom’s love for handiwork in my oldest sister’s hands as she creates lovely and useful things.
I smell my mother when I catch the clean fresh scent of soap. And I hear my mother’s laugh in my own voice and sometimes when I repeat a saying just like Mom would say it.
And each night as I nod off to sleep, I wrap myself in memories of my mother when I tuck myself under the beautiful hand-stitched quilt she lovingly made for hubby and me.
So on this 21st page in Chapter Two of my book of Opportunity, I will take the time to remember not the day of my mother’s death but the legacy of love she bestowed on my family and I will give thanks to God for the life of my devoted mother.
“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson