To My Mother
| Years,
what are years?
Time that goes so swiftly by like
on the wings of eagles!
Words unsaid! Thoughts
unvoiced! Love unspoken! Thank yous left out! Hurt so deep it cannot be seen as if it were
in a deep dark well that has no bottom. Kindnesses rendered. The wonderful love of
children. The loss of a husband. Lessons learned but not shared. Memories that hold us
tightly – some of which we never want to let go, some we wish would simply disappear.
Years, years are short time
periods called life!
I never said thank you for all the things I learned from you as a woman, as a mother, as a friend, as someone with feelings like mine. I didn’t know that then, so long ago, that we could have feelings alike. I only knew I wanted to please you and receive your acceptance. The one thing I desperately needed: your love and acceptance at that tender age. Once you said to me "you will need to be strong". I didn’t understand then what you meant. You said "everything will be alright". You kept me tight in your heart, but I didn't know that then. You loved with a silent prayer, you loved with a caring look, you loved with a tender smile, you loved with a deep heart! I didn't know that then. I watched you go through life experiencing love from your children, respect from strangers, admiration from your children and grandchildren. I watched as you showed them that love back. I watched as you cared for sick people. I watched you love and care for your own mother. I watched as you worked so hard and became so tired. I watched as you cared for other people and brought them into your home, the less fortunate, and gave them hope. I realized you loved what you were doing. You had experienced things in life that I had not, as you were older and times had ‘changed’, but I didn’t think of that then. I watched you hurt, I heard you cry and I watched as your faith brought you through. I was 15 then and you were 32, how young that is in reality, 32!! I thought it was old then or maybe 'grown up'. I respected you and looked up to you in ways you never knew and in ways I did not know how to say. I shall never forget you teaching me how to make vegetable soup. It was sometimes from all the leftovers we had, but it was so good. It had carrots and tomatoes and onions and potatoes and sometimes meat. I finally did learn how to make that soup with a lot of guidance from you, but it never has tasted as good as yours did way back then. I shall never forget the love you showed when I was sick and you made your famous potato soup, the best in the world, it always made me well! You taught me how to cook beans and then one day said "you can do this as good as I can now". I was so excited. You taught me how to make pimento cheese and then complimented me on how good it was and how it turned out just right. You taught me how to iron a dress for a little girl to wear to church so no wrinkles would show. You taught me how to iron a shirt so the collar laid just right. You taught me to hold my head up high and believe in myself. You were a tender person, but I feared you because I just didn’t feel I measured up! I tried so hard. Then I finally became a mother and we had something to share. But I could never be as tender and compassionate as you were as a mother. I could hug them and sing to them, I could care for them but I could never make our house feel so good as Grandma's house! I remember you loved to plant your vegetable garden and as I watched I learned a few things that I never told you. I learned, after so many years, that you must plant a small seedlet in order to grow a beautiful squash vine that rendered beautiful yellow fruit; and that you must water and fertilize it to obtain the best results. I finally learned that to make good soup you have to practice a lot and I learned so late in life that to receive love you must love and be loved and then be able to give love out to others. I learned the hardest lesson of all, you must be patient to sew flowers on a pillow case. You must have peace inside, that peace that you have always had even in the midst of trials. You taught me so much, but I never got the chance to tell you how much or to say thank you. We have always been so different. You have talent to love people, see the good in people, sew, cook, make things grow, relate and I just never did. But you were willing to teach me and I learned so much just watching you. I remember once you were combing your hair, it was so beautiful, long and black and soft to touch. I watched in amazement as you put on your makeup, only a little lipstick, and I thought you were so beautiful. We never really talked, but I listened to all you said and I learned and I treasured all the lessons, I still do. I know some of those days were so very hard. I know that as women we don’t understand each other sometimes and as mothers we are different, but yet we are just alike. I admire and love you desperately as a mother and as a person. I used to pray that someday we could talk and you would love me for who I was back then, a scrawny little kid of 15, searching for what seemed to be missing, real love. Someone to take care of me and have a family of my own. Then next I desired a big hug from my mother. How I longed to hear the words ‘well done’ and "I love you". You always seemed to find time to do that. I treasure those memories as if they were gold! You are a treasure in this world
of scary things, No one will ever treasure the lessons you taught more
than I. You taught me how to survive, to be strong, not to expect too much, and along with
the faith that I have held on to from childhood in God, and your lessons, I realized
somewhere along that precarious path called life that you are the strongest person I
ever met. God taught me how to forgive and how to pray, but you gave me the words
"Now I lay me down to sleep" -- and you gave me golden memories of
beautiful pillow cases stitched with flowers, memories of water color paintings of
lilies, gladiolas and Iris and butterflies; memories of smelling flowers and
homemade soup. You gave me memories of teaching your children fairness and love and
knowing when to turn them loose to expand their lives as they chose. I just wanted to say thank you for all the things you taught me, for allowing me to learn how to be myself, to stand up for myself, for standing by me, and to treasure each child’s birth and hold her close and feel the love. You taught me to see pecans fall to the ground, to realize that if it is worth having it is worth working for; that with the beauty of the rose bloom there are thorns; to iron pretty dresses, to plant vegetables that bring cheer to so many! You taught me that each child is different. I always admired your oldest to whom you gave a great foundation and beginning or she never would have been so beautiful, no matter how much someone else cared for her. I always loved the fun I had with my brother, his smile and laughter and his trust. I always have had such a deep respect for my ‘little sister’ because you taught her wisdom. But it took so much hard work and time to sew a seed, produce a plant, make a flower, sew patterns on cloth, water and reap the garden, give children hugs, and be the caretaker to make it all come together. These things you did and So it is
with years. Now I am 60 and you are 77! Now I understand you, at least your first 60 years. I am still learning from you. I am so glad you can still see the good in people, love people, smell the flowers and have good memories of children playing in the yard, laughing and running and playing on the swing, picking up pecans and laughing so much as they ran and jumped in the leaves. You have been truly blessed with a mountain of love and good memories and I pray that those memories are all you will allow your mind to hold dear. The love of your children, the laughter of grandchildren, the smell of dinner cooking, a walk on the beach, the beauty of flowers, a warm home that welcomed strangers, and Christmas. You have such love to give! But most of all, I pray as we age even more, I will continue to treasure the memories you gave me, all the things you taught me and the wisdom of the words you spoke. Memories of gathering pecans; of preparing meals and making soups; the thoughtfulness of you giving little children a single grin to see if they would respond and the special feeling I get when I think of you. A gentle woman who herself had suffered, gave love to one so young, so unlearned, so unprepared for life. Thank you for helping me get better prepared and for being a person, that through the years, I have always respected and just never had a chance to say so properly. Years? They are memories - love -
laughter - happiness and sacrifice. Sincerely I think these things! Judy |