This was written in May 2013.  I had not posted it before because it is was so personal for me.  However, a very dear friend just lost her Father suddenly and oddly, this post had been on my mind the last few days.  Just felt like it was time to share.

Remembrance 

Recently I was reading messages daughters wrote in memory or in honor of their Mothers for Mother’s Day in the local newspaper.  It was a nice section to read.  Many echoed the same sentiments: love, respect, positive role models, perseverance, etc.  It made me think.  While I definitely can use all of these sentiments to describe my Mother, Grandmother, and Aunts, I feel there is so much more than can be said.  A deeper layer if you will.  

My family had a tough year last year.  Mom had two major medical crises and it took a toll on her spirit.  Our family stood together and rallied around Mom.  We did what we could to keep her spirits high but when you are down more than you are up, it can weigh heavily on your spirit.  Despite all the love surrounding you, you can feel alone.  You can feel as if the pain will not stop.  The healing won’t come.  The end is near.

How odd to be writing about the end when thinking about my Mother.  As with the huge hole in my heart after my Grandmothers' passing, I can’t even think about the pain my heart will have when God decides to bring my Mother home.  On this Mother’s Day, as I’m reading these messages in the local newspaper, I am not reminded of the many lessons Mom taught me, shaping me into the person I am today.  I am reminded of a doctors office.  I am reminded of the look on the Doctor's face that did not match the words coming out of his mouth.  I am reminded of the fear in my Father’s eyes after over three hours of surgery and no words from the doctor.  I am reminded of the feeling in my gut that was conflicting with the the feeling in my heart.  I am reminded of a very long week in the hospital when it didn’t seem things were getting better but worse.  I am reminded of how we all fought to keep her spirit up while she struggled to recover from major abdominal surgery.  I am reminded of the phone call.

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This Mother’s Day I see my Mom in a different light than ever before.  I see a survivor.  I see someone much stronger than she will ever realize she is.  I see someone who has picked herself up and despite the incredibly difficult journey lived to see 2013 and has made positive changes in her life that will help her to continue to heal.  

This Mother’s Day I no longer have fear.  I held strong for so long.  I didn’t break down in front of her.  I didn’t break down in front of anyone.  I had not allowed the fear to enter my thoughts.  If I had, I could not have been supportive.  My body language and facial expressions had to be positive, had to be strong.  I’m too easy to read.  I carry my emotion on my sleeve.  If I let the fear in, Mom would have known.  It would have confirmed her fears.  I couldn’t let it show.  I had to be strong for her.

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I’m at a statewide training preparing to begin co-teaching the program.  Mom calls.  I answer.  She’s just left the doctor’s office from her follow-up.  She’s doing great.  He’s really proud of her progress and her new lifestyle habits that will only help her to heal.  She doesn’t have to go back for a year.  What a turn of events from just six months ago.  Things are better.  Mom is healthy.  She’s active.  She’s healing.  

She shares a comment from the doctor:

You are a very lucky young lady Mrs. Bunch.  I didn’t think you would be alive today when I first saw you.  I was convinced you had pancreatic cancer and you had less than six months to live.  

Praise God.  

This Mother’s Day, I am not focused on the person I am today because of the many wonderful lessons and love my Mother shared with me.  This Mother’s Day, I remember.  I remember how close I was to not having her with me on Mother’s Day.  I remember the fear.  I walk out of the training and break down.  I needed ten minutes to release the fear.  To acknowledge it and let it go.  This Mother’s Day the fear does not consume me.  This Mother’s Day, I don’t have to be strong.  This Mother’s Day I am happy.  This Mother’s Day, the fear is gone.  This Mother’s Day, my mother is alive and healing.  This Mother’s Day, my heart is whole.

This Mother’s Day I owe to God.  

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