For Mama

Unbelievable. Today marks the anniversary of the day our mother and granny passed away.

Isn't it true that major events, both happy and sad seem to live in two paradoxical time waves. It simultaneously seems like forever ago... and it feels like yesterday. I wonder if the changes in our lives are visible.

My mother had the gift of hospitality. Who else would plan a birthday party-extravaganza from a hospital bed in the middle of the living room? Who else really, really wanted to be a queen for her last Halloween...  so much that her dear nurse wanted her to have a tiara. Mama, Granny to her dearest grandson, was the epitome of a gentle, fierce warrior-cookie baker-queen created to persevere, to live, to survive. She got this grit from her mama, my little gramma.

Mama was my ultimate encouragement, one I looked toward for earthly inspiration, for approval, and for comfort. She was the most generous person in our world.

My earliest memories find her doing the little, marvelous things that feed the soul... taking a picnic outside with me and our perfect cat Sally and collie dog Laddie.... painting popcorn with pink fingernail polish and gluing it to branches that also framed little blown-out eggs with magical Easter scenes inside...... proudly viewing a summer's work of over a hundred cans of green beans, 80+ quarts of old-packed tomatoes, and bag after bag of golden freezer corn, fresh green peas, and juicy strawberries and peaches And like the little red hen story she adored, she did it all herself, with any help my dad could give after his full time job and farming.

Mom and I played school until the day I walked into first grade in an embroidered gingham skirt with a teacher's bouquet of zinnias carefully wrapped --- first in a wet paper towel and then aluminum foil. My mother had taught first grade and couldn't wait for me to experience the magic of learning. She was purposeful in not teaching me to read before I went to school. I think she wanted to be fair, to give the teacher what was hers, to create in me a lifelong love of the classroom. It worked for us.

We did our hair and put on Evening in Paris perfume in front of her waterfall vanity. Her contant mantra of "pretty is as pretty does" is as central to my core as the wonderful clothes, coats, boots and purses she bought me. She spent her clothing budget on me, that's for sure.

We read together in her old gray rocker until my feet nearly touched the floor. For every silly, happy, angry, sad, or confused word that came out of my mouth, she provided undivided attention. Only a mother wants to listen 24 and a half hours a day!

Losing our mothers is a life-changing event. Where is that person living here with me who has Saturday planned to run by the Amish, have lunch in town, and watch a Hallmark movie in the dark? I need her to remind me to dust that shelf, to make a plan and stick to it, to roast her a hot dog until it is "good and burnt."

Through the past 11 years I have lived in her house. Even after her major stroke had done its worst, she managed to tell the nurse, "I do not live with my daughter...  she lives with me." My son has given up a lot, as well.  She needed help. I am glad, so glad, it worked out we could give what she needed. He says he would do it again. Our story worked for us. We feel she gave us even more.

Dolls. How could I ever write about Mom without mentioning her dolls. Such beautiful little faces. I have given a few away, but the rest of them have been waiting in the shadows and wondering about their futures. I suspect the majority of these girls will continue to live here at Meadow Lane... I told the buyer at a major auction house I wasn't selling any of the dolls who spoke to me. That must have been overheard because they have been speaking up more lately.

In the end of our lives here on earth it is good to leave with eyes fixed on Heaven. My mother spoke and demonstrated her love and faith. I heard her pray aloud after her stroke. She always thanked the Lord for her life and for her family. She asked for strength to be a better person. She asked for God to watch and help us all.

Much more I could say, but this seems enough for today. Mothers, when things go right, are perfect for the children they create.

And so it goes. I wanted to write this, and it is, after all, my blog. I can say what I feel.....

We miss you, Mama.