When “13”, the beat-to-hell black and white stray cat we spotted darting in and out of bushes by our house since December, let me pet him/her for
the first time this morning (!) after MONTHS of feeding him and having to walk back in the house for him even to come out to eat, I wanted HER to know what that teeny, tiny triumph felt like to me. There would be no diploma for this accomplishment. No name on a marquee, and I sorely didn’t need one. Having such a down on his luck animal that either got tossed out or lost, trust ME enough to pet him (FINALLY) and allow me to sit near him while he ate, made me feel like I won the lottery or that MY head had been added to Mount Rushmore. And I wanted HER to know that SHE is the reason I cared enough to spend 4 months talking to bushes on my belly trying.

And yesterday, when I got to my garden after a-less-rare-than-I’d-like-hard day of trying to reason with the unreasonable, working at a pace that made my hands shake, and feeling like there’s so much ugly in the world these days, SHE must have had a cosmic hand in reminding me, it was just a bad day. There off in the distance in the new garden I planted in November, was what seemed like a balled up white plastic Publix-type bag that blew in and got wedged in the leaves of a yet to bloom Hibiscus bush. So I went to get it and toss it, and not having my glasses on didn’t realize what it was until I was almost on top of it. There before me was one of the most intricate and beautiful Hibiscus flowers that also just happened to be the size of a freakin’ salad plate, that I had EVER laid eyes on. I had seen the bud swell for almost a week, and there before me, on a day when few things would or could soothe the soul, was the MOTHER of all things beautiful. A simple, yet stunningly magnificent bloom that reminded me of HER, and how she revered such simple luxuries and would feel renewed by them.

My mom didn’t need Rolexes or Rubies. She didn’t need a McQueen gown or a Mc-mansion home although wouldn’t shun either. After a lifetime of doctors telling her what she wouldn’t or couldn’t do: (“You probably won’t live past 30,” she did. “You’ll never be able to bear children,” she had two. “You can’t run or be athletic,” instead she taught herself to knit and crochet like a machine), what she did was decide how SHE was going to live her life in this world. She lived so happy, so content, despite all the challenge, by CHOOSING to embrace the simple things that brought her so much joy, like a flower that shows up out of the blue and has the power to make everything right, rather than focusing on the ugly.

She took everything in her power that could be deemed an obstacle to her quality of LIFE and instead of dwelling on them and being deflated, DECIDED instead to simply find pleasure in something else.

Just when I was feeling sorry for myself because suddenly after 12 years, I realized even though I want to, I can’t always remember her New York-twanged voice or all the funny stories she told. Things I NEVER thought would ever fade, have, and that makes me so sad, but I should dwell instead on how much fun going shoe-shopping with her was, how comforting sitting in the kitchen painting plaster ornaments and talking endlessly about silly stuff with her was, and what an amazing and nurturing mom I was blessed to have for as long as I did.

And once again, in the midst of missing her so after all these years, and wishing I could just make some deal with the devil to have her back for a five minute respite, I did. I really did.

And the way I CHOSE to view and embrace that incredible blossom (and release the rest of the junk) gave a little bit of her back to me, and confirmed again, how lucky I was to have HER as my mom.

Moms may not always know in the here and now the effect they have on their kids. And the kids are generally even more clueless. But talk to someone who has lost theirs and the perspective is sobering.

To all those still lucky enough to have their mom, and those who still wince via the loss, moms are like flowers. Celebrate the beauty in HER, Happy Mother’s Day!

And to my dear friend Jim, while the wound of the loss never goes away; somehow it gets easier.


Please follow us on Twitter (if you do that kind of stuff) at www.twitter.com/lifepubs and friend US on Facebook at www.facebook.com/lifepubs. We really do some very fun, some very neighborly stuff!