I would be remiss not to express my thoughts on motherhood as we approach Mother’s Day. It’s not that I am lured into the commercial side of the day but rather appreciate the recognition that it garners. Giving birth to my son will always be the most important thing that I accomplished while on this earth. The fact that he has grown into a thoughtful and caring man only adds to my joy. My focus is not on myself though, but rather my own mother. She has been gone for a long time but her presence is still felt today. Memories, from early in my childhood, linger and have my mother prominently at the center.

Mom had the misfortune to lose her own mother at the age of four. Several years later, her step mother was to also die at an early age. My mother and her sister were raised without the benefit of a lasting maternal role model in their home. Their aunts were there and offered what they could, but basically, they were motherless. I feel that this experience taught my mother a life lesson that remained with her. She understood what a void she had experienced in her life and ensured that my brothers and I would never suffer the same consequences. No, she didn’t make a pledge to longevity but rather loved and guided us with every bit of her being.

When I was very young, we made the move from Philadelphia to the location where my father had been stationed for recruiter duty. Totally in agreement, my parents felt like it would be a good place to raise children and that is where we stayed. Looking back, I believe that this made us a tighter family unit. We were removed from our extended family and were making our way in a new community. Initially we had depended upon each other. Our world would expand to include our neighbors and friends but I was much too young to exist beyond the circle of my family. It might have been different for my older brothers but I was very much attached to our mother.

As we acclimated ourselves to our new community the time came for me to attend kindergarten. It was only for half a day but it was my first venture into the world beyond our home. The day came when an open house was held for registration. I recall going into the large room with my mother. There were other children there with their mothers. The room was large, colorful and filled with a variety of toys and activities. As we made our way around the space I was intrigued by a toy that was perched on a shelf. It was a wheel with wooden letters placed upon a wire that encircled it. I was enthralled by the object. I’m sure I didn’t grasp the educational concept behind the toy but I remember the simple enjoyment that sliding the small blocks around the wheel brought. When I tired of it I turned to look at my mother. She wasn’t there. Immediately I panicked and began to cry. It didn’t take long to realize that my mother had only moved to the other side of the room. I was never in danger and hadn’t been abandoned but I have not forgotten the terror I felt when I couldn’t immediately find her. I was the same age that my mother was when she permanently lost her mother. I have a hard time grappling with a loss so profound at such a young age.

It is clear that my year in kindergarten was helpful in expanding my world. My time there can be considered a success. I made friends, some of who I am still in contact with today. With an increase in my social skills and all the other necessary requirements met, my classmates and I prepared for graduation. The girls must have been instructed to wear white dresses and come with a bouquet of flowers. It must have been enjoyable for my mother to choose a dress for her only daughter to wear for this rite of passage. Actually she must have reveled in the idea of having her little tomboy wear something so special. A white dress was selected and my bouquet would consist of deep reddish peonies. Since the flowers made such a nice contrast, my mother thought adding a red sash to my dress would really set it apart. Then she must have thought that to complete the ensemble the anklets needed to match. Bright red socks were selected to blend with the sash and flowers. Decades later, when the topic would arise, she would never concede that it was anything other than a perfectly matched outfit. Mercifully, I believe this fashion faux pas is something only my family remembers, albeit with laughter.

Thinking of how we were raised, again I am in awe of our mother. After we had relocated, my father had to complete his last tour of duty in the Navy, a six month deployment. When he retired from the Navy his next career had him work second shift. My mother had the unenviable role of often being the sole disciplinarian. It is no wonder that one night, after dinner, I made a rude comment about her choice of serving rice pudding. At that point she lost patience with me and I was sent to my room without dessert. Thank you, Jesus! She did a remarkable job of raising us but I am sure Dr. Spock never contacted her for parenting advice after that episode.

Mom was blessed with a long life. Although being her only daughter and the closeness it brought, we never considered ourselves best friends. I held respect for her role as my mother. She did rely on me and we had some very honest and heartfelt conversations before her death. I told her that I planned on eulogizing her, just as I had done for Dad many years earlier. I confessed that I was going to share comical parts of her life. She would smile and had no reservations. As we held vigil around her bed during her last hours I wasn’t thinking about red socks or rice pudding. I told her that she did well by us and we would be okay. She let go and I can rest easy knowing that there was nothing left unsaid. She is missed everyday but I have no lingering grief over anything that should have been addressed. I can’t imagine how heavy that burden would be if I had followed a different path. I wouldn’t want anyone to travel that road and if I had any words of wisdom to share they would be simple and few: call your mother if you have the good fortune to still have her.

This is not the first time I have written about my mother. You are welcome to read another post on a previous blog: https://mypunchline.wordpress.com/2015/08/16/my-mother-and-loss/