I didn’t know that old people got lonesome for their mother. I thought that was an experience of young children.
Sunday is Mother’s Day. My mother died five years ago at the age of ninety-one. We really lost her ten years before that because her last decade was shadowed by dementia. Her death, which was peaceful, was more of a relief, at the time, than a grief.
But now, the memories of the weight of caretaking have faded and the earlier memories of her intense interest in every aspect of my life, her eagerness to hear my stories, her passionate prayers for me and her confidence that God would answer them are what I think about.
I wish I could buy her a mother’s Day card this week—or maybe make her one. She’d like a home made one better. She would be thrilled with a personal photoshop book and be filled with wonder at how such a thing could be possible.
For a window into my mother’s life, watch the video below: