Four years ago today I received the call no one wants to hear telling me my mom had suddenly passed away.
I wrote this a couple of years ago for Mother’s Day:
My mom and me:
From my earliest memory, my mom was my best friend — not in a way that was too chummy and hindered discipline. But we could talk about most anything, and I always knew that she was for me. I was the oldest of six, and we always enjoyed each other’s company.
She was not the most domestic person on the planet. I remember days cleaning the house together, snack breaks, and jokes about how no one ever came over when the house was clean.
My father was an alcoholic and very jealous and easily angry. She thought that once they got married and he was assured of her love and commitment that much of that would change. A word of warning: don’t ever marry expecting change. I love my dad, too — I’ve written more about him earlier. I wish they both could have come to know the Lord earlier. But there were rough times over the years, and Mom and I were kind of allies during those times. I think she did the best she could to be the best wife she could be, but with continued problems and without the strength God could give, the marriage ended. I struggled with my relationships with both parents during that time, but the Lord helped — it was actually as a result of all this that I was saved — and eventually my relationship with both was restored, as I mentioned a bit in an earlier post.
I always appreciated that, though my Mom didn’t share my beliefs and convictions for many years, she cared about me and tried not to offend and tried to support me in my new way of life.
She loved to give. Her “love language” was definitely giving. She loved to find things that would be “just right” for her kids. She would collect things all through the year to give at Christmas. She always gave generously yet always wanted to give more. She was also a delight to give to. I enjoyed just as much looking through the year for things to give to her.
She loved to call rather than write, and our conversations were easily an hour or more. She would call for special occasions or just to catch up. Since we always lived 1,000 miles away and were rarely together over holidays, phone calls became an unplanned but welcome tradition. Usually we’d talk in the evening after the rest of the holiday’s festivities were over and everyone had gone home. That’s one of the things I miss most.
When my husband and I first got married and moved away, we traveled there to visit: it would have been hard and expensive for her and my step-father to travel with five kids. But in later years they did come here, and it was a joy to visit with her on my turf. One of the times I enjoyed most was one day when they were visiting and my husband rented a boat to take everyone on the lake. I don’t know when she developed a phobia about the water, but she didn’t want to go, so she and I stayed at the house and I took her out to lunch. That lunch out together with just the two of us is one of my best memories.
She passed away in December of 2005: I wrote more about that day here. If I didn’t have faith that God’s timing is perfect, I would have felt it was much too soon for her to go. I don’t know why the Lord chose to take her so soon — I trust He will work all things together for good as He promised. One hope was that some of the rest of the family would be saved as a result, but as far as I know that hasn’t happened yet (if anyone feels led to pray to that end, I would be much obliged.)
Love and miss you, Mom!
Though this song does not exactly characterize my relationship with my mom in every part, much of it does: