Saturday, August 16, 2008

Hello Mom.

So notice that I didn't post anything about Mother's Day? There are a couple of reasons why. It's still a really hard day for me. This last one made the 7th one without my Mother. It still seems unnatural. It has not gotten better over the years, just different. I am happier to celebrate it since I became a mother myself, but it still stings a little. I mentioned a couple of reasons for not posting. The other is that I was waiting on something to happen. Some of you already know about this but for the benefit of those who don't, (and for my own entertainment) there is a story. Yes, it's a true story.

My Mother had a gorgeous peony "bush". Honestly, the thing was so old it was huge. The blooms were humongous and were a beautiful pink color. I always loved when it bloomed in the spring. Mom hated it. Absolutely hated it. Every year before it could finish blooming, usually, she cut them down, mowed over them, weed-whacked them, whatever it took to get rid of them. I caught her executing the thing on more than one occasion over the years. Anyway I always grumbled about it with her because I hated seeing her do that. I loved that plant/bush! When she passed away I decided that I wanted to take that plant home with me. I dug out as much of its roots as I could and packed it the best I could to make the trip home. We had just built a new house and I had no landscape so I thought it would be a great addition and give me something beautiful every spring to remind me of Mom. It made it home okay and I planted it. The following spring it sprouted but didn't get very big. The next year, same thing, and so it went. I had convinced myself over the years that it would never bloom because Mom didn't like the thing. You had to know her to know that at times she could seem to be pretty stubborn. My sisters both told me to forget it. They said that since Mom couldn't stand the thing it had finally given up the ghost. Two years ago in the fall, I decided to take the chance to move it. I moved it to the front of my house. I talked to it. I asked Mom, as I had every year, to give up her hatred of that beautiful plant and just watch it bloom, for pete's sake! Last spring it shot up out of the ground. It got bigger than it ever has, but still no blooms. I decided instead of trimming it in the fall, to leave it intact throughout the winter, hoping that it would somehow help it along. I really felt despair that it would probably never bloom. Honestly, it was like admitting that every little part of Mom was really, truly gone. This spring however, the thing shot up out of the ground and got even bigger than last year. And the most amazing thing happened. It had two blooms! I was ecstatic! I waited until they were at their peak and took several pictures. Honestly, the day I checked it and found those little blooms all I could think to say was, hello Mom. Thanks so much for helping this bloom.

What made the difference this year? Why did it finally bloom? Why did I get the idea to move it after so many years? Why did I even keep trying to keep it alive in the first place? Why when it finally did bloom, did it have only 2? I don't know. I just don't. But this is what I do know. We are all getting older. Sadness, sickness and loss has and continues to touch our lives- all of us. Last year cancer touched our lives through an aunt. Everyone felt so helpless. All any of us could do was pray and support her the best we could. Heavenly Father heard us, because she survived her bout and is fine now. This year the unwelcome disease came knocking at her sister's door, which happens to be my mother-in-law. I have to say that when we got the news it seemed surreal to me. I have always equated losing a Mother with losing my mother. My husband's mother is too healthy to have anything serious wrong with her. She's also pretty young, so shouldn't have anything to worry about affecting her health for a long time to come. The truth of it is that none of us should take our lives for granted. I certainly took hers for granted. I had never even given much thought to my relationship with her, I am sorry to say. We've always gotten along well and I love her, but I had no idea what she meant to me until recently. As soon as there was a plan of action for her to have surgery and we were given a date there was never a question in my mind whether or not I should be there. Everyone's schedules and distances from home being what they are, I never even bothered to call any of the family to ask what they thought. I gave orders that I would be with her throughout the procedure and stay with her until I was satisfied that it was okay to leave her. It wasn't until I had decided this that I realized for the first time really that his (my husband's) family is my family too, and that she (his Mother) is my Mother too. We were so blessed that the ordeal went very well overall, and that she felt pretty good in a couple of days, so I was able then to return home to my daughter and husband. I can't help feeling a little different about my other "Mom" now. I know that even though she and her family don't really talk about their feelings or openly express them to one another very often, while my family is made up of a bunch of blubbering, call-you-out-to-talk-or-hug-it-out weirdos (self included), we are on this path together for a reason. Sometimes I still have a hard time feeling like I fit in but I just love them. The more thought I gave those 2 blooms I came to theorize that there were 2 to remind me that I am blessed with 2 Mothers. One is no longer with me here, but thankfully Heavenly Father gave me a spare. Love you Mom.
mmf and go-go 2006



mmf and go-go 2008..aren't they beautiful?

2 comments:

J.R. and Meg +3 said...

What a beautiful post--thanks for sharing! I absolutely love peonies. What a wonderful thing to have this one from your mom's garden and kudos to you for "mothering" it all of this time.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful. I really enjoyed reading this post. Thanks for the fresh perspective. You are dedicated, Karen. You are a great friend.