Mother's Day 2023

A natural Mother's Day bouquet

When I first started this post, I wondered what is the most appropriate place for the apostrophe in "Mother's Day" when referring to all mothers. I tried various solutions, but actually none seems perfectly correct. So I decided to go with the flow of "most" articles I found,  referring to a singular mother. In any event, I am wanting to talk about my own departed mother.

She has been gone since 1993, but she still to this day visits me often in dreams. I hear her voice sometimes when I least expect it, but it always turns out to be someone else's, or even my own voice. I don't think my mother will ever truly be gone from my consciousness, as long as I am alive.

Daddy, Fran, Mama (and someone in the back)

While cleaning out a desk, I ran across this picture of my parents from some long-ago event in a kitchen that might or might not have been theirs. Everyone is pretty dressed up, and the woman at the stove is wearing a corsage (I think). It was in the years before Mama stopped using henna in her long hair, and Daddy is actually wearing a tie (I've never actually seen him in one, or at least I have no memory of it). Some ancient recollection of having seen Mama's pretty embroidered blouse under her jacket lets me know that I was around somewhere.

I was born right after my parents celebrated their first anniversary, and I suspect this picture was taken in the late 1940s or early 1950s. From the expression on Daddy's face, it was not his first drink of the evening. It might have been a party for someone not in the picture, and some anonymous person captured these three friends enjoying themselves. Fran was an RN from the local hospital who became a good friend to my parents. She was the attending RN when Mama had surgery for some kind of "women's problem," and she urged the doctor not to give Mama a complete hysterectomy. Mama ended up having four more children, and my brother's middle name was bestowed on him to honor Fran's part in his having been born. It's all ancient history now, but the picture preserves the moment; I will never know what the occasion was, but I have spent many hours studying the picture for clues.

I don't think the occasion was for Mother's Day; everyone is dressed for what seems to have been a fairly formal occasion. I don't remember Mother's Day in our family ever having been celebrated like that. We would sometimes go out to a restaurant, which is what I suppose most families do, but we didn't usually dress up. However, since I don't possess any pictures from old Mother's Day celebrations, I suppose I could just invent it as one, and make this my offering to my beloved mother on her day. Just because she's not physically present doesn't mean she isn't still deserving of appreciation for all the years she gave me as her mother.

I know I have given her many bouquets of flowers over the years, so the beautiful lilacs in bloom at the start of this post are appropriate. I have some childhood memories of having picked wildflowers for a bouquet and having given her a wilted but heartfelt gift. Mama was always appreciative of the sentiment. But she was also never one given to long celebrations with her at the center of attention. Mama was a great cook and spent many hours making delicious meals for her children and husband. I sure wish I knew how to make that wonderful cornbread casserole I remember from long ago. 

Our mothers give us so many gifts. They give us the precious gift of life, of course, but they also leave treasured lessons that can guide us along our journeys even when they are no longer with us. —Maria Shriver

It really doesn't matter how old you are, you will always be a child to your mother. And she will often be someone who gives her advice to her offspring to help them navigate the way to happiness.  Mama was a real housewife; she never worked outside of the home except as a volunteer. She spent time with us, although she seldom was without a book or two that she was reading. There were stacks of books beside her bed and in the living room by her chair. I still remember seeing her carrying books home from the library, huge numbers of them, sometimes in boxes. And she read them all. I believe she was one of the most well-read people I've ever known. 

We moved a lot when I was young, and Mama was able to turn whatever place we were living into a real home in a very short period of time. I always remember thinking of home with her at its center, wherever we lived. It was hard when she died, because suddenly the world no longer had a place in it that I felt was my home. She was a central figure to my feeling of safety in the world. It was not something I could ever find again, even when I was grown and a mother myself. I suppose this is fairly common among women, but I don't really know for sure. I only have my own memories of my safe haven with Mama at the center.

Today, this post is a love letter to my irreplaceable mother. I believe she knows somehow that I am still thinking of her and remembering her with love and gratitude in my heart. She carried me under her own heart and gave me a loving and safe childhood against all odds. I am who I am today because of her. I wish all mothers and their children could have been so blessed. She personified love, and so on her day, today, I'll try my best to do the same with everyone I meet. It's the least I can do to honor her memory. Happy Mother's Day, Mama!