Mother's Day Thoughts

Today I remember and celebrate the lives of several of the loving mothers in my life. Some gone, and some barely hanging in there.

Grandma Jessie, our paternal matriarch, is in the hospital again. This is the way she will spend her Mother’s Day. She missed the Gaither’s concert last night. The tickets; a Mother’s Day gift lovingly purchased by her granddaughter, so Grandma and her daughter could see their favorite gospel singers.

Her tired body is full of toxins that her failing kidneys can’t remove. At 88 years old, she is weary and each day is a genuine struggle. She tenses her every muscle and trembles with fear when a blood draw is necessary. Who knows how many needles have pierced her soft, milky white skin in her lifetime. She’s had enough.

"Can’t you just give me a pain pill before you do that?" she cries.

The doctor tells her, "Now Jessie, they’d run me out of this hospital if I gave you a pain pill every time we had to take blood!" A compromise. Blood will now be taken from a newly inserted IV that is pumping her full of cleansing fluids.

She’s outlived many of her siblings and one of her son’s. She often joked that she was in "waaaay better health" than her 3 children. In my father’s case, that was so very true. He’s been gone for 8 months now and she says she’s had to put his photograph in a drawer because she cries every time she looks at it. I understand completely. It was he who was supposed to handle her final wishes. Mother’s aren’t to live long enough to see their aged children die.

How I wish I were there today to hold her hand and thank her for all the mothering she’s done, the lives she’s nurtured and the wisdom she’s bestowed. Instead, I will call her at the hospital and hope that she’s able to talk for a moment, and feel the deep love I have for her, this special woman who brought my beloved father into the world.

We love you Grandma!