Today is my Mother’s birthday. She transitioned to her eternal state of being in 1991. Twenty five years ago! I can hardly believe it has been that long since she passed. She died from complications following surgery. She was younger when she passed than I am today. She died much too young.
My mother was physically and personally beautiful. Her beauty was often compared to Elizabeth Taylor. Her gentleness and unconditional love for all of us, our spouses, and our children were perpetual. I miss her every day—and have for the past 25 years.
I often reflect on how gentle, loving, and kind she was and how she lived her life in a quiet, peaceful manner that was based on love, contentment, and cooperation. She could not stand for anyone to be in conflict or to be upset. Even when my brothers (who were both champion wrestlers) would wrestle for fun on the living floor, she couldn’t stand it! She would ask them to stop—and if they wouldn’t, she would leave the room. (this was interesting since she never missed one of their competitive matches!!) She was afraid one of them would get hurt. And she didn’t want anyone to hurt.
I try to life my life so that I do not have regrets of things I have done or didn’t do. However, in honesty, I do have regrets many regrets. Mostly of how I have hurt the people I love the most. And my heart hurts for those pains I have caused.
When it comes to my relationship with my mother –whom I adored—I have regrets. She was so supportive of me—no matter what I was doing: horses, piano, gymnastics, cheerleading, school, boyfriends—and eventually, John, my husband (who she cherished). And, yet, I feel I could have been a better friend to her. I could have been more attentive. I could have called more often. I could have been kinder. I could have been more grateful. Oh, how I wish I could pick up the phone or drive the 5 hours to her home and tell her—just one more time how much I love her. Call your mom today–if you still can.
When she was in intensive care for 8 weeks, my dad, my brothers, or I were with her almost constantly. But, interestingly (and painfully), at the moment of her death—none of us were there. For an hour, we were all elsewhere. And, when she passed, she was alone. Maybe she wanted it that way. Who knows.
But, somewhere in heaven as she continues to bless the heavenly spirits, her pure white wings are hovering wherever needed. She was—and I’m sure still is—a person who selflessly wanted what was best for others not asking for anything herself. She was the purest, more unselfish person I have ever known. I am so blessed to have her as my mother, my mom, my inspiration. Mom, I will forever keep trying to make you proud. I love you. Happy birthday.