The month of March has already been a crazy month for me and the family. Anyone who has followed this blog is probably well aware of that, so I wont waste a lot of time covering the events of the past twelve days or so. However, today is the day I have been dreading ever since I made the decision to start the blog. Today is my mama’s 72nd birthday. But it is the first that she has not been here physically to celebrate with us. She always made a big deal out of everyone else’s birthday, but would never let us do the same for her. I credit her with my love for language, reading, writing, and communication in general. As an English major and teacher for so many years, how could she not have such an impact on her children and grandchildren? One of my favorite examples of her correction involves the southern dialect and the word “after”. She tried so hard to teach us (especially Jim and me) how to speak properly and sound educated. We would say we were going “adder” something instead of “after”. Her response, always teaching, was that an adder is a snake from the Middle East, while AFTER is the word we were looking for. Fortunately, her teaching took hold in Jim’s life, and he has been able to use his talents and become quite successful in the business world. This is the song he wanted me to add to this post for her birthday.
I asked Jen if there was a song she would like to add to the post, but the pain is still too strong and new for her. She and I have had several conversations since losing mama, and I understand why the grief is still too much for her to process. Of everyone in the family, Jen is arguably the closest to her. Sis, I would take the pain away if I could. She and I had a long discussion last week about burning bridges and the love required to save someone from a burning bridge. I am adding this song for you sis. When the time is right, you will be able to build whatever bridge you want or need. Mama equipped you with all the necessary tools – most importantly the love required to do so.
I tried on many occasions to write something worthy of mama’s attention and stature. I figured out quickly that I would never be able to thank her properly through anything I wrote. The harder I tried, the more frustrated I became. The more my life became chaotic and full of problems and failures, the further I shrank away from writing, or even attempting to write. The irony is that through all the struggles and failures, I gained unlimited topics and stories to write about. But the failures create such a crisis in one’s self esteem that it becomes hard to write. It is not embarrassment or concern about what others may think. Rather, it becomes “why would anyone want to hear what I have to say”? This is the only thing I ever wrote for her that I shared with her. I wish now that I had given her copies of all the ones I threw away. If you love someone, tell them. Better yet, show them. I have told both my children that love should never be used as a noun. Love is a verb – it is an action. Mama, I love you with all my heart. I hope you know that. I just hate this is the only thing I ever wrote to tell you so…
Love shown as only mama can
A lesson hard to understand
Her little boy became a man
And came back home awhile…
By fixing supper every night
She makes a world gone wrong alright
She has my back in any fight
A reason still to smile…
We think alike, my mom and me
Still she sees things I cannot see
But since her wise advice is free
Two wrongs are fixed by right…
I love you mama with my whole heart
And as I make a brand new start
Please know you play a major part
In keeping love in sight…
Happy birthday mama. I love you. I look forward to the day we are reunited, along with all those you are already with. Thank you seems so inadequate, but it will have to do for now.