Reading Time: 2 -3 minutes

Lida in San Juans

Today is Mother’s Day.  My mother, Lida Askew, passed away a bit more than two months ago.  Throughout the week I had flashes of  great ideas for her Mother’s Day celebration.  Each time, I had to recall with a jolt that she could no longer come out to play.

I called my sisters, Becky and Pam, and my sister-in-law, Patti, to wish them Happy Mother’s Day. Everyone is feeling the loss of Mom today.  It seemed extra important to make contact with all the siblings.

I celebrated my first Mother’s Day this year.  When I got married last summer, I became an instant mother, even if my son, Patrick Downey,  is already 26 years old.  I never thought I would be a mother at all.  Even better,  I didn’t have to go through labor, the “terrible twos”, or puberty to achieve motherhood status.  David, my husband, cooked me a  glorious dinner last night, gave me two dozen roses, and breakfast in bed this morning.  Good things can come to those who wait.

On a more transcendental note,   Mom seemed very close on two separate occasions yesterday.  In the morning, I went to a required Train the Trainer workshop at Richland Community College taught by Jan Parrish, Associate Dean for Healthcare Professions, in preparation for teaching several new eldercare planning courses there this summer.  About three hours into the class I remembered that Mom used to go to “Teacher In Training” days throughout the 28 years she taught 8th- grade English in the Spring Branch Independent School District in Houston, TX.  I never gave any thought to those teacher “in service” days. I was just glad I didn’t have to be in school.

Yesterday, I saw her in a classroom similar to mine, creating workshop lesson plans, just like me.  I am sure the technology was different, but I feel sure the experience was quite similar.  Like me, she was impatient to get out of class and do other things. I am equally sure that she felt the same rush of pleasure at learning something new that would help her prepare even better classes.  She was in the room with me.  I walked in her shoes and suddenly understood something about her reality that had never been clear before.  She felt so close, yet was as absorbed in her world as I was in mine.

Later in the afternoon, I weeded the herb garden in the back yard.  It was a perfect 73 degree day with a soft breeze blowing.  I smelled greenness and enjoyed the feeling of dirt under my feet and on my hands.  Then, as I worked, I experienced Mom working in her own yard, planting flowers, pulling up weeds, talking to the birds and critters, and grafting plant cuttings.  She had a green thumb but did not get around to gardening until after she retired.  I felt myself merge with her.  It was as if we smelled the same green, loved the same animals, and were deeply connected to the same earth at the same moment.

I better understood what it means to lose a loved one in the earthly sense but feel their presence intensely, like a warm breath on the neck, or a hug in the dark.

My brother and sister-in-law sent three rose-bush clippings as a sympathy gift after Mom died.  We planted them in the front yard and they began blooming this week.  I call them my “Lida Roses”.  Whenever I look on them I experience a rush of deep, sweet, uncomplicated love. Happy Mother’s Day, Sweet Mother.  Your roses are lovely, just like you.

Copyright TheNewElder 2012