I never thanked her enough. For making sure I had all I needed.
For providing all that I wanted that was good for me.
For creating a safe and loving environment for me to grow up in.
Woven into my mother’s life story was an incredible amount of pain.
As a child, she suffered with rheumatic fever. As an adult, health issues plagued her.
Despite that pain, she created a loving home with five active kids and one busy husband.
She filled the kiddie pool in the summer.
She made hot chocolate in the winter.
She popped popcorn for Sunday night Disney.
She made sure all our birthdays were joyful and holidays festive.
She encouraged me to try and not to quit.
When I asked to take dance, she signed me up and sat in the waiting room.
When I wanted to tumble, she took me to the gym.
She was present; from sports events to performances, from lessons to competitions.
When my words were mixed with tears, she listened.
When my young heart was broken, she cared.
From domestic queen to Brownie troop leader, from stay at home mom to career woman, she was talented and inspirational.
With needle and thread in her hands, she created beautiful works of cross-stitch art.
Her seamstress skills were amazing. Growing up, she sewed my favorite Halloween costumes. I always wanted to be a princess, and she made sure that I was.
She stayed up late the night before my wedding, making certain my bridesmaid dresses were just so.
When my daughter grew up, she designed beautiful dresses with rainbows and lace.
She devoured one book after another, instilling a love of reading.
Playing hours of classical on the piano, she inspired in her family a love of music.
She camped, cycled, and traveled, imparting a sense of adventure.
In later life, she studied to become a paralegal and helped my father in his office.
The last time we spoke on the phone, she told me to keep writing. Don’t quit.
The last time we were together, she told me how proud she was of me.
I never told her enough, how proud I am of her. How much she means to me.
The foundation she laid gave me the confidence and strength to become the person I am today.
Four weeks ago, she told her sister, “I’m waiting for Jesus to take me home.”
And that He did. He took her home at the end of July where she abides in His loving arms.
I wasn’t there to say goodbye. But, I am confident in the fact that we will see each other again.
In a place where she feels no pain, where she abides in perfect peace and incredible joy.
Where I can tell her all the things I meant to say.
I love you forever, mom. Rest in peace.