Dispatches from Home – Mother’s Day 2019, My First Without You.

Dear Mom, I’m sending you a letter via heavenly mail. I’m not sure how mail works up there, but I hope you get this. Happy Mother’s Day to you! It’s bittersweet not having you here to wish you this in person. The past few months without you have been lonely ones, but I’m happy to report that the days are not as long as they once were, and the nights are peaceful and pass quickly.

     You have been my reason for living since I moved home after the great storm of 2005. My days and nights were lived for you. I hope you told Daddy that I honored his last request of me—to look after you. I did the best I could, but I had a great teacher…you! I watched you look after Grandad and Granny, lovingly and without complaint. I then observed you trudge through your grief when Daddy was called Home. I remember you telling me, with tears in your eyes and a sweet smile, “Anthony, you go on home. You have your life to live, and now I must find my new life.” Now that God has called you Home, I have remembered those words time and time again, as I too must find my new life.

     Many dear friends have called or sent me FB messages telling me that I am in their prayers this Mother’s Day. I’m thankful for that. There are so many things that I miss. I miss waking you up each morning, hoping you’d ask, “Did it rain last night?” That was my clue that it was going to be a good day. I miss your smile, the way you would hold me tight and say you loved me. Mom, even when you did not know who I was, who you were, or where you were, you always said, “I love you.”

     There were, however, those terrible nights when nothing I did would calm you.  Remember? The long, long car rides in the dead of night; watching the sun set and rise again the next morning. I had to smile though. You were always happy, never sad. You chatted away at unseen children, teaching your dear 2nd graders once again. You sang “Jesus Loves Me” to them over and over. And when you did, it reminded me of the many, many times that I saw you reading your Bible; not only reading it but living it in such a beautiful, loving way.

     Mom, I do beg your forgiveness for that one night. I was so tired, so exhausted, and you would not go to sleep. I shook you while you lay in bed. I yelled at you, “Go to sleep! I can’t stand this anymore!” And then, as if God and the angels were looking down on me, you said in a calm voice, “I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.”

     I write these words with tears flowing down my cheeks. Please, Mom, forgive me. I will never forgive myself for losing my temper with you. Please, please forgive me. I didn’t attend church this morning. I was afraid I couldn’t control my tears. Seeing all those dear mothers in the sanctuary with their coiffed white hair, their laces and pearls, but most of all their orchid corsages would have been too hard to face. And then there would have been their perfumes. I often spray a bit of Habitat perfume in the house. It is so evocative of you!

     I do want you to know though that each day I grow stronger and for that I’m thankful. I’m also grateful that you were my mother and Daddy was my father. You both taught me to be strong, self-sufficient, and to never give up and never give in to doubt and fear. You taught me to love others. The color of their skin, their social position, their religion did not matter. “Anthony, you show Jesus’ love to everyone.” I try Mama, I try.

     Now that you’re gone though, I feel somewhat like an orphan, alone in the world, trotting through life with no rhyme or reason. It’s all so strange now, not having you here.  But life goes forward and so must I. I have so many marvelous memories of you and Daddy; a lifetime of memories to help soothe the pain of losing you both. I miss you Mama, more than you could ever know!

     I’ll see you someday though. When my days on this mortal coil are over, and God, in His infinite love, mercy, and grace, calls this old sinner Home, I’ll expect you, along with Daddy and all our dear family and friends, to meet me at the Gate. When you do, Mama, I want to hear you say one more time, “I love you.” Why? Because that was the last thing you said to me before God called you Home. And it’s the first thing I want to hear when He calls me Home. Mama, I hope that time’s not too far into the future.

Please know that I love and miss you. Your loving son, Andy