My Mother
When I was very young mom used to take me into her bed while the thunder and lightening roared and crashed outside. I remember feeling safe and secure. She used to tell me stories she made up about this little Ukrainian boy who lived on a farm. He would always try to do something good but because he was so young he always made a mess of things, like attempting to flip pancakes and having them stick to the ceiling. I would laugh so hard I would almost cry. I could never get enough of those stories. Even when I had children of my own, she would tell them the stories and I would listen as if I were still that little girl.
My mother played the guitar, the accordian, the violin, and the banjo. She never knew how to read music, she played by ear. She grew up on a farm and music was a good part of her life. I loved to listen to her play. She used to play and sing "Old Shep". It brought memories back to her about her dog and I used to cry when I heard it.
I could never imagine life without my mother. Mom passed away almost four years ago now and I miss her very much.
I am my mother’s daughter. There is not a day in my life that I have regretted being lucky enough to be born to her. God has blessed me well. From her I learned courage, empathy, kindness, love, charity, and above all, faith in God. I learned most of these things throughout my childhood and adolescence but it was not until after her death that I really understood where the essence of my being stemmed from.
Mom and I were kindred spirits. What I mean by this, is that we had a gift within each other that I can only explain in the following example: When I was a child mom always had me close to her. When I went off to Elementary School she would wave goodbye to me until I was out of sight. I returned the same. As I grew older and then moved on my own we continued this ritual each time I would leave her. When I moved further away and could only visit once a year, we still carried this on. This meant a lot to both of us. In our waves to each other we said more than our goodbyes. The night she died I was four hundred miles away and fast asleep. Around midnight I awoke and my body felt very heavy. All the sounds around me were like distant muffled echoes. Almost like I was hearing under water. Then for an instant it felt like my breath left my body. I lifted up my arm towards the ceiling as if to wave goodbye for the last time. I sensed mom was passing and for that time I was going to be with her. I whispered, “Mom, Mom,” over and over again as I continued to hold up my hand. I knew that she was leaving and I had to be with her as she passed. After a short time I told myself that I was imagining things and I fell back to sleep. My phone rang between 5 am and 6 am and immediately I knew what news awaited me. The next day when I arrived at mom’s house my brother told me his story. He told me that there was a thunderstorm around midnight and as he lay in bed he sensed mom had passed away. He told me how he lay there and cried and could not bring himself to go into her room until the early hours of the morning. He said she lay there peacefully with one arm raised up. I believe with all my heart that God had allowed mom and I those precious moments so we could wave goodbye to each other for the last time.
