It’s a bit grainy. I don’t remember the year or much of anything else about the circumstances. Mostly I just remember her, the way she loved singing ancient hymns. She knew all the words. She would just start singing one and I would have to figure out what key she was singing in and catch up. Sometimes I would have to stop her and plead, “Wait, stop, Ma. I’m not gonna play “Showers of Blessings” in A flat. How about G?!” I would start it again and her alto would pick up right where I had left off, a step lower.
It’s been nine years since I’ve heard her voice, nine years since I listened to one of her speeches, nine years without arguing with her sometimes tortured logic about one thing or another. What I miss the most though is nine years without being hugged. When you got hugged by my mother, you were good and hugged, the kind that lingers on for hours, the kind that reassured you that you were loved no matter what you did. And I did plenty. When I was a kid Mom told me things about myself that nobody else knew...even me. It was Mom that warned me about the dangers of riches, because she knew that I was going to be successful in business before I even knew what business was. That was her way, her uncanny second sight, a sometimes creepy intuition about the future.
It’s been nine years since I’ve heard her voice, nine years since I listened to one of her speeches, nine years without arguing with her sometimes tortured logic about one thing or another. What I miss the most though is nine years without being hugged. When you got hugged by my mother, you were good and hugged, the kind that lingers on for hours, the kind that reassured you that you were loved no matter what you did. And I did plenty. When I was a kid Mom told me things about myself that nobody else knew...even me. It was Mom that warned me about the dangers of riches, because she knew that I was going to be successful in business before I even knew what business was. That was her way, her uncanny second sight, a sometimes creepy intuition about the future.
Mom was the kind of person that I wanted everyone to meet, a rarity I suspect among most people who would rather endure a root canal with no anesthesia than have to introduce their mother to a group of their friends. But with Mom it was always, “You think that’s weird? You should meet my Mom!” Or, “There’s nobody else in the world like Mom.” Sure, there were times when her ideas or idiosyncrasies would embarrass me a little, but mostly I thought she was an amazing woman whose mind was alive with a thousand thoughts, and whose heart was filled with a deep and abiding love for all sorts of people, even strangers. This, the fruit of a Christian faith as deep as the ocean and and as free flowing as a river.
So, I miss my mother today, a bit more than usual.
No comments:
Post a Comment