Mother's Day on the way

I spotted this article this evening. Please take a minute to read it. An insightful, meaningful message on Mother's Day. Reprinted from: http://www.blueoregon.com/


My Final Mother's Day
T.A. Barnhart
Mother's Day is Sunday, and I'm not looking forward to it.
Last July 3rd, my mom went to her local Albertson's in Winter Haven, Florida, to finish making a special dinner for her husband, Bob. She and Bob married during my senior year of high school in Billings, Montana; November 1974. Since then, they had not missed a single holiday together until Bob's leg problems landed him in the hospital for the Fourth of July 2005. My mom had health problems of her own, in spades, mostly the lung cancer that was unavoidable after 55 years of smoking. But Mom had her ways that couldn't be denied, and making Bob a special post-holiday welcome-home dinner for the 5th was something she was going to do. Tired or not, her activity level reduced by the inability of her lungs to process even the oxygen-enriched air she was breathing through plastic tubes, she was going to do what she always did: something for someone else.
Her last words, to the woman at the checkout at Albertsons, were "I don't feel well." And then she fell, and that was pretty much that. Not a very dignified way to go, but for anyone who knew my mom at all, it was the equivalent of Bing Crosby going down on the golf course. Mom, for whatever faults she had as a mother, loved to do for others. She had her quirks in this, but at her memorial, the common theme was "El Rene just loved to help other people."
Her death came as a shock, a heart attack that resulted from years of strain on her heart and lungs. I was expecting a slower, more ugly death from cancer; this was better in that regard. But there was no time to prepare, no chance to repair bridges or say goodbye or ask questions about long-lost relatives whose stories I would so love to know. I didn't think ahead to a day like last July 4th, when my mom would be gone forever. Who does? We don't like to think of death, so we generally avoid thoughts of it. I wish I had done so just once, just once gotten on the phone and said a few things. She knew I loved her, and I knew she loved me, and whatever separated us, well, I hope it didn't matter to her.
Don't screw up this Mother's Day. If your mom is still around, make the most of this Sunday. Call her or visit; send a card, flowers, wine, warm socks. If you are angry with her or hurt by how she raised you or bitter or just distant, get over it. It's not worth it. To be honest, my parents didn't do a great job. They loved me, but they left so many gaps. Their marriage went south when I was 10 or 11, and from that point on, I was left on my own, emotionally. I don't blame them because I know the people they were, the stuff they had to deal with in their own lives. My dad and I have a good relationship now, for which I am eternally grateful. My mom lived a good and happy life down in Florida with Bob, and I am glad she did. I'm sorry I didn't get down there to visit; I wish my kids had known her more than just a couple of visits up here when they were little. And I will always regret that I didn't get to say goodbye, that my final Mother's Day slipped past me in secret. Sunday will be a day to remember and to mourn, again; I hope it's also a day some of you will fix things with your mom. Your time is short, and it's always shorter than you think.
May 12, 2006 T.A. Barnhart