I love you ‘Mom’
Life is funny. Sometimes ‘ha ha’ funny, sometimes ‘this sucks’ funny, & sometimes ‘what can you do’ funny. Such was the case the night of Friday, February the 8th.
My wife & I were headed to my 20 year class reunion of which I have written about. And which, ironically, I thought I’d gain some insight into life from. About an hour into our trip, my wifes cell phone rang. As she began to talk & I saw the despair & pain in her face, I got that sick, sinking feeling which always seems to accompany the time right before you get bad news. I pulled off to the side of the road as the call ended to hear my fears realized. My mother-in-law had passed away a short time before. No matter how cool handed you are, how slick an operator you are, when you find out someone you loved is gone, your first thought is “What am I going to do?”. We’re conditioned to expect & deal with change. We’re told it’s part of life. The only thing constant is change. But a loved one dying isn’t just a change, it’s a sudden void opened up in your soul. Part of you is instantly gone. And can’t be recovered. You are changed in that moment into a different person. And so the natural reaction is “What am I going to do?”
Let me tell you about my mother-in-law. I am one of the luckiest husbands in the world in that she was great. And I did love her. She treated me & made me feel like one of her sons. In the almost 19 years I had to privilege of knowing her, I never exchanged a cross word with her. Not once. Who can say that about anyone that they know for that long? Like her beautiful daughter, she had a love for sports that led us to many conversations of that sort. Especially about football & basketball. I enjoyed doing things for her because she always appreciated it. Although she was far from perfect as every person is, she was the perfect person to be my mother-in-law. And I can say now for certain, that it wasn’t a complete visit until I was able to bid her farewell with a hug, a kiss to the cheek, & an ‘I love you Mom.’
Mom’s story wouldn’t be complete, it wouldn’t even begin, if I didn’t tell you about where she lived. Born in Oklahoma, she spent the last 39 years of her life in a small Missouri farm town. One of those places that doesn’t seem to have been built as much as it just sprang into being around a random meetings of two paths. Where the wind-swept fields are only broken up by the occasional house & a gathering of buildings that say to the world that this place is a home to people. Where the houses are nicely kept, but not extravagant. Where one street contains practically every business that exists there, but it’s never overly busy. And where life tends to coalesce around the events of the school. The bastion of the future, the hopes of the community growing there, the sporting teams bringing a unity to the residents of the town that can’t be found in any other setting in the world. This was where mom invested her life. Not only in her own 7 children, but in all the children of the community. And in doing so, planted the seeds of her life in every person there. Seeds that grew into love, love for her, love for others, love that brought others to replicate her deeds, her heart.
It’s one of the cruel ironies of life is that we don’t get to see the impact that we truly have on our world until we die. Mom beign so quiet, unassuming, & tender-hearted, she had even less of a desire for glory. But in her way, she touched the community over & over again. Friends of her children found her house a second home. Not only from the time they spent there, but from the love they received from Mom & Dad. She was active in PTA & other community groups that did things for the town & especially the children. She was the queen of homecoming floats. Always on the queens float committee, she helped bring about creations that didn’t belong in a town of 500, but seemed to come from places exotic, strange, & wonderful. And children grew up remembering them, amassing memories. She was handy with a needle & thread & over the years had sewn literally hundreds of wedding dresses, prom dresses, quilts, dolls, & other things that found their way into so many homes in the town & around. And then, there were the ball games.
Mom loved going to watch the towns teams play. Boys or girls. Basketball or softball. All 7 of her children had been involved in one way or another. After they were graduated & gone, every child in the school became hers. She was rarely without her partner in crime at sporting events. The dynamic duo. Where Mom was quiet & unassuming, her friend was loud & boisterous. Her friend never learned to drive & Mom was mobile up until the end. They went together perfectly. They were a fixture at games, sitting side by side, known throughout the conference, & even getting in for free sometimes in the last few years. Mom’s last evening alive was spent with her friend at the conference basketball tournament. It’s appropriate, poetic, & perfect for her.
The funeral was held Tuesday on a brutally frigid day that wasn’t anything like the woman we had come to lay to rest. So many people, so many memories shared, so much testimony to the great, big heart that she had & that ultimately failed her. I held it together pretty well. I wanted to be strong for my wife & my family. I had the honor of giving the closing prayer at her funeral. And as Mom & Dad were both saved, I felt it appropriate to implore others to be saved too on her behalf. As we packed up to head back home & resume the normalcies of life, I felt what lay ahead. No hug. No kiss. No ‘I love you Mom.’ The void in my life opened up wide for me to see & feel. But now there was no “What am I going to do?” The void gets filled when you keep on livin’. It leaves a scar, but you keep on functioning. Eventually you learn to live with it. To honor God, to honor my own great parents, & to honor my mother-in-law who I was so lucky to know. You see, I got one of her seeds in my heart too. And I want it bear the kind of fruit that she would be proud of.
Last Saturday, my daughter performed with an honor choir she had been selected for. One of the other choirs sang a song containing a line that stuck with me. The world is full of poetry. And that’s a great metaphor. Each one of us is writing our own verses every day. What will remain of us long after we’re gone. Some will be well-known, others hardly heard. Some bold, others subtle. Some complex & soaring, others simple & solid. Mom’s lines are quiet, unassuming, but deeply affecting. No one who heard them was unchanged by them. And they changed the poetry of others around her for the good. Though she never achieved any wide-spread fame, she left her part of the world in better shape than she found it. What else can you say about a person?
I hope that’s what will be said of me.
I love you Mom.