Today would be my mother’s 82nd birthday had she
lived past age 57. What a life she was cheated out of. I know she would be
extremely proud of all of her children. I know she would be beyond happy that
we found John Anthony, her oldest son, placed for adoption before she met and
married my father. There is no doubt in my mind that the two of them would have
had a special relationship. The death of my younger brother, Wade, left a hole
in her heart. Perhaps John could have helped fill it, never replacing Wade, but
giving Mother the comfort of knowing her oldest son was happy and healthy and
had a great life in spite of her life-long fretting over the choice she was
forced to make.
How she would beam with pride over the accomplishments of
all of her children. And her grandchildren – oh my, I know no one who would
relish being a grandmother more than she. My oldest daughter, Courtney, is the
only grandchild lucky enough to really remember her. What a sad loss for the
others. Now there are great-grandchildren. I wonder if she ever imagined that.
Mother is gone but she left a great legacy. She taught us so
much: How to parent, to love unconditionally, to have a successful and loving
marriage, to be a good friend, the importance of family, and to have fun. I
think of her many times every day. I think of her when I prepare a meal, wash a
load of laundry or iron a shirt. She was a domestic goddess disguised as a
housewife. I cannot run a kitchen sink of sudsy hot water without thinking of
her. We nicknamed her Our Lady of Perpetual Dishwater. She always had a
dishcloth in her hand and was cleaning something. I can’t walk the beach in
search of sand dollars without feeling she is there with me. And every time I
am with my grandchildren I send her an unspoken thank you for showing me the
way love multiplies with each generation.
On this, her special day, I could lament all she lost, but
instead I’ll focus on all she had and all she gave. Happy birthday Mom.
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