Mother

My mother passed away on Tuesday, but she is not gone.

After eighty-seven years on this Earth, she has moved on to whatever is next and the cliche is true that I am happy she no longer suffers the pain of this life.

I am sorry for those of you who never met her. My mom was a sweet soul who would help anyone she could, and did. Whenever I introduced someone to her she immediately liked them, because if they were good enough for me, that was enough.

Let me tell you about the beauty of my mother. In her lifetime, she was treated horribly by her mother, three husbands, and other family members, yet she maintained a beautiful grace that she was willing to share with anyone who needed it. Although she would express wonder as to why someone was behaving the way they were, she never complained. Even after a family friend stole from her, she forgave them and gave them money to live on. She learned early in life to take what comes, deal with it, and move on with no regrets. And that is what I will do now.

I remember sitting in church as a young boy and looking at her and thinking how much more beautiful she was than any of my friend’s mothers. But her beauty manifested in countless other ways. For example, my father was not a gentle man, and she took up the slack of quietly raising her children to be decent human beings, and I will spend the rest of my days trying my best to make sure her work was not in vain.

I am grateful that we have grown closer in the last twenty years, since I finally grew up. I take solace that I was able to tell her what a great mother she was and that we were able to say every day that we loved each other. The last thing she ever said to me was, “I love you more than anything.” No, my mother will never die.

My mom didn’t know how to hate. Instead, she just found things she didn’t understand. In that vein, she didn’t understand cold weather, mayonnaise, and Donald Trump. She knew how to love though, and knew how to do it unconditionally. She loved Christmas, dogs, books, and her family.

I guarantee that she has already demanded to be appointed my guardian angel, even before the compulsory training, because, she’ll tell them, she doesn’t need their training and “my son needs me now.”

Her physical body is gone, but as long as I’m alive, so is she.

Every time you pet a dog, my mother smiles. Every time you tell someone that you love them, my mother smiles. Please make her smile often.