Today is Mother’s Day. Today, like every other day, I’m thinking about my mom.
She died after a 2 year battle with cancer in 1995. Mom was a sweet lady. She was one of the most human people I ever met. In the last couple of years of her life, she lost her pretense. She realized that so much of her life was wasted on trying to live up to expectations she put on herself. She’d also tended to project other people’s expectations onto her life. Weakness and faults weren’t “supposed” to be shown in the life of a Christian. You had to play the game, and play it well, in order to impress others and maintain status in the church. In those last couple of years, she allowed her insecurities to show. She was self-conscious about her weight. She worried that she was insignificant to those she loved. The week before she died, she told me her greatest fear was that she’d be forgotten after she was gone. She told me how much she regretted that she’d miss meeting my wife, seeing me get married, and getting to hold her grand children. I cannot go a day without looking at my daughters and hating the fact that they’ll never know Grandma Ginger. I can tell them stories, but that’s 2nd hand knowledge. It’s not good enough for me. Sometimes, I get frustrated about it. I still don’t understand why God had to take her at only 45. It doesn’t seem fair to me, but I am projecting my limited view of fairness onto God…and that’s just wrong. He knows what He is doing, always. I have to trust in that.
I miss my mom. I still, nearly 13 years after her death, cry for her from time to time. Ok, so maybe I cry for me missing her. I think about my girls not having her love showered on them. I think about my nieces and nephew never knowing her and it makes me sad. I think of how my sisters have had to grow into womanhood with out her influence, since they were 18 and 15 when she died.
These last 13 years have been long without Mom being around. Every day, I look forward to seeing her again in Heaven.
A few years ago, John Tesh cut a song with Dalia singing lead called “Mother, I Miss You.” The chorus expresses how I feel more eloquently than I could begin to say it.
“Mother I miss you. Nights I just wish you were here with me so we can laugh and talk again. Mother I miss you, but I’ll just kiss you and send it on the wind. ‘Cause you know I plan to see you again.”
She died after a 2 year battle with cancer in 1995. Mom was a sweet lady. She was one of the most human people I ever met. In the last couple of years of her life, she lost her pretense. She realized that so much of her life was wasted on trying to live up to expectations she put on herself. She’d also tended to project other people’s expectations onto her life. Weakness and faults weren’t “supposed” to be shown in the life of a Christian. You had to play the game, and play it well, in order to impress others and maintain status in the church. In those last couple of years, she allowed her insecurities to show. She was self-conscious about her weight. She worried that she was insignificant to those she loved. The week before she died, she told me her greatest fear was that she’d be forgotten after she was gone. She told me how much she regretted that she’d miss meeting my wife, seeing me get married, and getting to hold her grand children. I cannot go a day without looking at my daughters and hating the fact that they’ll never know Grandma Ginger. I can tell them stories, but that’s 2nd hand knowledge. It’s not good enough for me. Sometimes, I get frustrated about it. I still don’t understand why God had to take her at only 45. It doesn’t seem fair to me, but I am projecting my limited view of fairness onto God…and that’s just wrong. He knows what He is doing, always. I have to trust in that.
I miss my mom. I still, nearly 13 years after her death, cry for her from time to time. Ok, so maybe I cry for me missing her. I think about my girls not having her love showered on them. I think about my nieces and nephew never knowing her and it makes me sad. I think of how my sisters have had to grow into womanhood with out her influence, since they were 18 and 15 when she died.
These last 13 years have been long without Mom being around. Every day, I look forward to seeing her again in Heaven.
A few years ago, John Tesh cut a song with Dalia singing lead called “Mother, I Miss You.” The chorus expresses how I feel more eloquently than I could begin to say it.
“Mother I miss you. Nights I just wish you were here with me so we can laugh and talk again. Mother I miss you, but I’ll just kiss you and send it on the wind. ‘Cause you know I plan to see you again.”
Also, it was on Mother's day 2 years ago that we brought Kaylee home from her stint in the NICU. She was so tiny.
1 comment:
oh how I miss her, too. i love what you wrote! thanks for sharing it. sometimes it feels like no one does remember her, doesn't it? and then we get a note or comment from someone or a blog from our sibling that helps us to know what an impact mom had. she lives on in our babies. i "see" her sometimes in thier laughter or an attitude or expression. again, thanks for the reminder.
Katie (the dunce who can't open a google account)
Post a Comment