Holy Mary, Mother of God,pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
--excerpt from the "Hail Mary" Catholic Rosary devotion
A few days past, a friend shared the news of the recent loss of his mother with me. And shared is a profound statement. She passed away after a brief fight with a cancer, and the visible hole that was torn from his heart was obvious. Lost is what I heard in his voice.
Abraham Lincoln said "I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life." These sentiments ring true to me, though not through my mothers prayers, but her actions of love. I am most fortunate to still enjoy my parents alive and well and owe much to them. My mom has never been judgmental to me, but I know she must have worried terribly at times. I am a silent sufferer, was so even as a kid, but she allowed this to be OK for me. She knew how to take my burdens quietly from me, leave me my silences and free me to travel on my personal journey. I imagine that it took incredible strength to do that. Just trying to understand three sons would break down most mothers these days. My sister must have felt like a gift from above.
But perhaps she learned how to love us in her life lessons. And more than just sharing DNA, family stories and relationships, our mothers are a physical as well as spiritual part of us. There are times I hear her voice when I am talking. She speaks to people through me. I see her when I am cooking, remembering that tiny kitchen that she so carefully prepared our meals in, surrounded by cupboards her Dad built for "her." Light pine with black hinges.
I wish that I could tell her to not worry, but I imagine that is fruitless. Being a mother is to worry. I see that beauty of caring in my own wife, also a mother. I like to think that the poem I have at the end of this post can capture what I so clumsily have tried to put in words. The truth is there are no big and mighty words that can adequately capture our "Mom."
My mother is a poem
I'll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.
--Sharon Doubiago
Posts
3 comments:
Like
Thanks Mitch for the kind words you said about me. I always wanted boys as I had only sisters,and I didnt find raising them was that much of a challenge, they were all good boys,worry,yes I did alot of that,and I admit I worry more now that you are men because I want the best for all of you. Girls are a blessing, a special bond between mothers and daughters a mother lets go of a son turning him over to a wife when he marries .To worry is to sin as it changes nothing so I have tried to turn that over to God,and it is working for me. Now I call it concern and caring.
I know what you mean about hearing "moms" voice,I still hear my moms and wish every day I could pick up the phone and she would answer,I want to tell her or share with her so much,and it is too late.
Im proud of you your ambition,work ethics,caring,and just being my son. Many times I have called on you to be some place at a critical time in the family and you have always been there until I could get there. Thanks for all you did for me.
Love you mom
Would like to understand why you think that a mother can turn a son over to a wife. Physically yes, but that would not change a love of a son for his mother or the love of a mother for the son. It should not seem like a sacrifice but an added depth.
Post a Comment