Yesterday one of my BFFs hosted a special prayer breakfast for her deceased mother’s “adopted” daughters. Her mother went to be with the Lord thirty days ago. She was ninety-three years young. I had the privilege of being among those who had been invited and it was a touching event. I’ve known my girlfriend for over a quarter of a century, and we’ve shared myriad ups and downs, but mostly good times. As the years rolled by, I knew there was a strong possibility that the day would come when we would have to say goodbye to her mother—our mother. The home going celebration last month was beautiful, and I applaud my girl for giving us an opportunity to come together to reflect on how her mother has touched all of our lives.
As the twelve of us sat around the exquisitely decorated table, we reminisced about time spent with her mother and all the fun things we had done over the years. I couldn’t help laugh when I recollected the time I had invited my BFF and her mother to a one woman show about Billy Holiday. Mom had just turned ninety and was proud as a peacock. The show took place in a night club, and the MC opened the floor up for dancing in between acts. Mom and my girlfriend love to dance, so I was surprised when they didn’t take the announcer up on his offer. The show resumed and at the very moment that the actress playing Billy Holiday was about to shoot up, my girlfriend and her ninety-year old mom decided to get their groove on. They were doing the Cha Cha and having a blast while the poor actress continued on with the scene. I sat in the audience stumped, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to holler out to them. I thought about approaching them on the floor, but then there would have been three people blocking the scene. Finally the stage manager got their attention and they quickly sat down. On her way to her seat, mom blurted out, “I turned ninety today!” Once everyone learned of her great achievement, all was forgiven, and the room was filled with cheers and well-wishes. That was a great night.
After an hour or so, and all stories had been told, and the bountiful breakfast had been consumed, I was overcome with a melancholy feeling. I lost my real mother when I was fourteen and she was a tender thirty-six. As my girlfriend stifled tears, I fought back my own. Like her, I miss my mother dearly. It’s been thirty-seven years, but it seems like yesterday. I miss everything about my mother. Her pretty face, her laugh, the way she used to talk to my siblings and me to death when she was upset with us, her loving touch, everything. I loved how she would get down on the floor with my sisters and me and play jacks. She made pies from scratch and could sew a mean school outfit. She was a loving, beautiful, and talented woman.
Hmm, I have a very funny suspicion that perhaps my girlfriend’s mother and my mother are meeting for the first time in Heaven and are sharing stories about the ups and downs they experienced raising us. Whatever they’re discussing, I think they’re both proud about the job they’ve done raising us and what we have done with our lives, and most of all, I believe they’re happy that my BFF and I know the importance of God and family.
If your mother is still living, give her a hug, a kiss, or even just a smile. I know we just celebrated Mother’s Day, but every day is “Mother’s Day.” And if she has passed on, take a moment and tell her how much you love her!