Mother's Day

Mother’s Day was okay. My son and I had another couple of conversations and he actually wished me a Happy Mother’s Day, for the first time in years. It actually made me feel good and gives me hope that perhaps we are in a process that will allow us to work out our differences. That is what I would like to happen. But for the time being I am going to let him take the lead and not try to force the issue. Right now we are taking baby steps. My mother was on my mind yesterday. It is hard for me to realize that she died five years ago, May 3, 2002. After all that time, I still find myself ready to pick up the telephone to call her. I wrote this back in February and posted it on my other blog. I thought it was worth reposting for Mother’s Day.

This is for my mother, Ethelyne Inez (Becky) Reynolds, April 3, 1921 – May 3, 2002.

I never realized how strong my mother was until she passed away and I took a good look at our lives. She worked hard and was the glue that held our family together for many years. My father stopped drinking when I was thirteen and by then the damage to our family was evident. She never stopped loving him and stood by him through all the trials and tribulations of their life. She continued to work and she supported him in all that he chose to do. Even if it meant moving again and we did several more times. Divorce is a word that I never heard mentioned in our home. She stayed beside him until he passed away.

As she grew older, I had expectations of her that she could no longer fulfill. I expected her to do the things she did when I was growing up. I expected her to cook meals, clean the house, bake pies and cakes and all the other things she did. I did not see her as growing older, I saw my mother as she use to be. I began to realize how my mother felt as I aged and started to slow down myself. My expectations were too high for her to meet. I thought about these things for many months and knew I had to tell her what I had come to realize and ask her to forgive me for setting those expectations for her. To tell her that I understood why she could not do the things I expected of her. Although she had her share of illnesses, her health was okay in 2001 and she moved to Tennessee to live with my sister. I delayed telling her the things I needed to say. Thursday, May 2, 2002 came around and for some reason I knew I had to talk to her and tell her how I felt. I delayed once again and intended to call her on Friday morning.

A good friend of ours dropped by for a visit that morning. We sat at the kitchen table, talking and the telephone rang. I answered and my sister said I do not know how to tell you, but mother died in her sleep last night.

What I am trying to say by writing this is do not put off talking to a loved one when you know you must. Make it a priority to talk, do not delay for any reason, no matter how important you think it may be. Nothing is as important as telling someone you love how you feel and to say you are sorry or whatever it may be you have to say. Since then I have talked to her, even though she is no longer here. My only regret is that I did not say those things to her before she died. I know that she heard me and I have found peace in that.