Death Of A Saint

I lost my mother on Tuesday, June 26, 2012, at 9:31 PM.

Mom was 73½ years old, but was a very "young" 73½. I was with her when she left us, and now realize one very important thing; there is never enough time to say all you want to say - ever. We could all have lifetimes measured in millenniums rather than decades, but even then, it would not be enough time.

With a father that traveled for his work, my mom was the glue that held the family together. She was an anachronism in today's society; a life-long housewife who kept an immaculate home, and could make a three-course meal out of nothing.

After I left home many years ago, we used to talk on Tuesdays. She would call and start the conversation with “Guess what? It’s Tuesday, and you’re loved extra special on Tuesdays!” It became our thing. It was a contest to see who would call who first, because the person who called got to say it. The proper response was “I know!” What I realized long ago was that my mother loved me extra special every day.

My sadness at her bedside in the hospital was nothing more than selfishness on my part, because I will miss her sweet glowing face, her cheerful encouraging voice, and hugging her very squeezable body.

I celebrate her life as one that was lived properly, and will always remember all the things, good and bad, that made my mother who she was. She would not want her death to make me to lay down and wrap myself in a sadness that would prevent me from moving on with my life.

She would say the same thing to me she used to say to one of my brother-in-laws when he would tell her over early morning coffee how worried he was about getting his day’s work done; “Well what are you doing still sitting here? You should have been gone before daylight!”

I realize that it's okay to be a little selfish in my sadness that she is no longer physically with me, but I won’t let that last very long. Instead, I will use her life as an example of how to better lead mine; as a champion for her children, in service to others and as a messenger of encouragement.

I am thankful I had a mother who cared enough to whip me when I needed it, and I am a better person because of her.

I love you mom.