I stopped my delicate and soapy cycle across the china plate and looked over my shoulder. "What, Mom?"
"Just..." Mom cleared her throat. "It's a puzzlement, that the husband would die first. All these statistics that doctors pour out. Do they ever stop to ask why?"
Mom was out of her chair, hugging her elbows as she gazed out the bay window. Her sweater was the same blush of a bluebell flower, her gray and white swirled hair curled just above the shoulders of it. Her curls matched her slacks and when she turned to face me, I knew I'd see the perfect loop of pearls around her neck that Dad had gotten her. That I could remember her wearing every day of my life.
She puts it on, first thing. I mused to myself, delaying my answer. Even when she can't remember who gave it to her.
"Mom..." I put the china plate down, the warm water suddenly cold. "Are you thinking about Dad?"
She turned from the pale shafts of sunlight, her fingers rubbing the pearls like prayer beads. "Of course I am. Married for fifty-two years to the man, then he up and dies on me... what else am I going to think about?"
I swallowed and dried my hands. "This' your day, Mom. Mother's Day. It might be better to think of something cheerful."
The rule was never to upset her; like a basket of eggs on a scale, you could never let it tip. Mom had been swinging back and forth on that scale for the better part of two years. Dad had been gone longer then that and a part of me was glad he wasn't here to see her like this. Dad had always been a man of action, but there was no action for Alzheimer's.
Mom was studying my face, then lifted her chin with a bittersweet smile. "Oh honey... he made me cheerful in many ways."
I smiled back at her. "If it makes you happy, I'd like to hear about it."
"Indeed you would," Mom touched the edge of the sleek and round dining room table. "But first... let's set this table up right."
"What?"
"Let's set the table." Mom's smile puckered in a determined look. "My son is coming by for lunch; it's Mother's Day you know."
But... I fought back the initial panic. You were going to tell me about Dad.
"Unless I'm mistaken, there's ham marinating in the fridge." Mom, shoulders square and motions full of purpose made for the kitchen. She'd open it and only find leftovers. And would that remind her that her son- me- was already here? Caring for her, providing her with the gaps that sometimes escaped her; in the hopes of one more conversation with the reassuring and elegant lady who had raised me.
THE END
It's that character she's taught you, whether through the family recipes she passes down, the punishments she dishes out (mercilessly), or the cartoon of orange juice she'll run out and get when you're sick... in her sweat pants! Treasure the memories that your mother has given you; she's given them in the hopes that her children will grow, learn, and thrive into someone capable and respectable. She thinks ahead in how she'll raise you because that's how a parent's love works; by looking ahead.
When the Bible talks about God providing for our future, the advise of parents are one of the strongest ways He does this. Who do you go to for all your wisdom and direction, when you're still learning how the world works? What memories come to your mind when you're trying to solve a problem 'on your own'? When a Bible verse comes to your mind, who was the first person who gave that verse to you? (Not all the time of course, but you get the gist of what I'm saying.)
Memories are precious. They are reminders of the ones we love and why we love them so much. Not everyone is blessed with a treasure trove, but for what nuggets you do have, hold tightly to them. And thank your mom for her presence in each one!
'She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.'
~Proverbs 31:25-26~
No comments:
Post a Comment