*I remember being 3 years old and visiting my grandmother and grandfather's house and playing in their backyard--the mint was already starting to grow in the garden and I can still smell it.
*I remember my Dad calling me into the bedroom to "sign" a card for Mom.
*I remember learning (from a friend down the block) how to use azalea cuttings to make a corsage for mom-- I continued that tradition from the time I was 9 or 10 through college.
*I remember my first Mother's Day--how proud and happy I was to be part of the sorority that mom was in.
*I remember the first time Danny, Scott and Jeremy each wished me a Happy Mother's Day and presented me with their projects/ paper flowers/ grass heads made in school--the sheer joy of seeing their faces filled with pride, and my happiness to be a part of that.
*I remember the Mother's Day that I was undergoing chemo--wondering if I'd ever live to see another Mother's Day. Who would nurture and love my boys more than I?
*I remember so many other Mother's Days when we would visit Mom or bring her home with us to share a lunch or dinner and the happy look on her face when she shared the day with her grandchildren. Mom no longer remembers those days. She knows who I am and tells everyone at the nursing home "that's my daughter". And so a new set of memories begins.
Our lives are given meaning by the shared remembrances with loved ones. Our history is marked by the times we've been together and interacted in a nurturing environment. My memories of my mom (and family) all glow with that memory. Yet, the one person who gave so much of that to me is no longer the keeper of the memories. Yesterday, we brought mom a corsage that she loved, but she no longer remembered the ones I used to make from azaleas. We shared a meal just as we have for so many other Mother's Days before, but she had no recollection of the ones from the past. And we brought her a gift of clothing just as we have so many times before. So much of it was the same, and yet it was all different. When I kissed her goodbye she seemed so small, so alone and vulnerable. All the memories of the past came flashing back and yet she wasn't the same person I remembered. No matter what we did to make the day special for mom, without the remembrance of the days that went before, it never seems like it's enough. I keep hoping that if I do a little more the glimmer of the mom I loved all these years would shine through. Unfortunately that won't happen.
I am now the keeper of the memories of our family. I will guard them with all I have for they are the things that have shaped me and given meaning to my own mothering. I now have the joy of a phone call from grandsons who are the promise of continued family memories and the voices of my children who now also hold the memories of grandparents and parents in our family circle. I wonder if any of them truly understands the importance of what they hold within them. Surely I never did while I was busy with schedules, work, cleaning and helping with homework. So, I hope that all their memories are good ones. Perhaps that's all a parent can wish for--that when time passes and life's pace slows just a little, they can reflect back on the good times shared and the love that was part us.
For now, I remember... Happy Mother's Day, MOM!
