My Mom, my beautiful Mom is turning 87 today. Ok, well she really turned 87 the other day, but we are celebrating today. Maybe this is part of the reason that I have been working on learning to "punch fear in the face" (part of Jon Acuff's new book's title). I find that other people's birthdays tend to affect me more than my own. Ok, well I have to admit that my birthday affected me a bit more than usual this year, but more on that later...or maybe another day.
In any case, 87 is a good age. I have another friend who is...she must be 90, because she told me the other day that I am half her age. I explained to her that I actually turned 46 this year, so really I am a little over half her age. But it was a moment...a moment that both of us wondered at. She, at being 90 and me at being half her age. What wonders will come in the second half of my life? And she looking back at her life at the same time. We talk once in a while, when I can find time in my extremely busy life. She says things like, "Peggy, why am I still here? What am I supposed to be doing?" And then I look at her and think, 'I hope I have as much relevance now as she does.' I watch her. I learn from her. I think how lucky I am to have someone so amazing, smart, and with the wealth of experiences she has had in my life.
And I looked and realized I veered away from my Mom. My family matriarch. My MOM. I find it hard to talk about my Mom. She is such a part of me. She is my friend. We talk daily on the phone and have for years. She is the one who I called to tell that I was on my way to my sister's house for my last visit as I knew she was slipping away. My Mom was the one who told me between tears that my sister had passed that morning. She was the one who I told that I would go find my Dad at church and let him know.
My Mom has always been my safe place. She was the one I came home to when I was sick as a child. She was there for me. She would tuck me into bed and give me a 7-Up to settle my stomach. She was the one who greeted me in the morning. I always felt like she had been up for hours just waiting for me to come down. It is interesting to note that I don't remember much about morning breakfasts at our house other than coming down, smelling the coffee, and seeing my Mom at the table. She would always get up then and help me get my breakfast. Weird that I don't even remember what kinds of things we ate.
I am truly celebrating my Mom's life today. I am doing it quietly, in my own way. She may never know how much she means to me. But she means so very much. I love you Mom. I thank you for the life you have given me. I thank you for the example you have been for me. I thank you for the hugs, for being my safe place. For being my platform to jump from. I thank you for the love you have given and continue to give. I hope you know deep down somewhere how very much you are admired and loved.
It is funny, but I didn't sit down to talk about my Mom. But I did sit down to write. I have missed writing. When I opened this dashboard, the second thing I saw was a blog post from another writing saying how important it is to write every day. Do you ever just get messages from the universe? From God? Well I do and that felt like one of them. I may not be here every day, but I want to write every day. It feels good. It feels write (oops! I mean right.).
No comments:
Post a Comment