This has been a quiet morning with time for reflection. When I was a little girl, our ward gave carnations to the mothers. There would be large bouquets of red and white carnations in vases at the front of the chapel, and after Sunday School they were distributed to the mothers - red if their mothers were still living and white if not. My mom always received a white carnation, and I recall thinking it was too bad she could never have a pretty red one....but didn't really think about what it might mean to her. My maternal grandmother died when my mom was only 13, so she had been without her mom for a long long time. Now my mother has been gone for nearly 12 years, and I miss her. I wish I could remember even one gift I gave her on Mother's Day. I know I did give her something each year, but can't think of anything specific.
As for my role as a mother, I have mixed feelings about that today - not about what kind of mom I've been but wishing I had lived in the moment a little more, cherishing memories as we were making them. I remember one time when the girls were young and they went as usual to spend the afternoon and evening with their dad, so I was alone on Mother's Day. When they returned they asked me if I had enjoyed my Mother's Day. I told them no, that I had missed them and felt lonely. I think that was a surprise to them - they thought it would be a nice gift if they left me alone.
Today I miss Julia. A year ago I was still in a state of denial, believing that she would soon turn the corner and recover from all those kinds of cancer. We chatted on the phone about my plans to fly to Reno and spend a few days with her, where she gave me a necklace that said, "All I am I owe to my mother." By the end of the month she had completed her earthly test and returned Home.
My younger daughter has been in contact more frequently since Julia died. I think we both realize how fragile mortality is. Her life has been so full of emotional highs and lows the past few years, and I pray for the time when it will be more predictable.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)



1 comment:
life is too short, I wish we had a pause button!
Post a Comment