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Steven Colbert gave the most beautiful tribute to his Mom shortly after she passed away. You might still be able to find it on YouTube. My daughter and I were moved to tears because of his tremendous love for her, the way he expressed it, and how he honored and remembered her.
One night when I was about eight years old I woke up crying hysterically because for the first time I realized fully that I was going to die someday. My Mom came into my room and held me for a little while, then left the room and came back with Rosary beads, wrapped them around my bedpost, kissed me and told me I was not going to die because of Jesus.
So many years have passed, and now Jesus is the Lord of my life. Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” Yes, Jesus, I do.
Thank you Mom. You gave me life and introduced me to eternal life. I love you, I admire you, I miss you more than words could ever say.
Location: Huntersville/Charlotte, NC and Washington, DC
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I would say when my father was on his deathbed, my mother did probably one of the most wrenching things emotionally she ever did. She and my father had a strong dislike for each other, even after 20 years of being divorced from each other. When I went to see him she was completely supportive and even was willing to sit in the room with me as I said my parting words to him. She made the decision to love me more than she hated him. She wasn't perfect in that aspect but for that day she did right.
I was four. It was July 4th. I was sitting at the breakfast table in my cowboy pajamas when I hear the familiar rattle of golf clubs in the back room. My dad comes through the kitchen with his golf bag and says to my mother, "Honey. Why don't you come up to the club around 1:00 and we'll have lunch?"
The screen door slammed and my mother pivoted to me. She said, "Pack a suitcase. We're going to Florida."
Ten hours later, Mom and the four of us are in a pine-panelled Holiday Inn in Lake City, Florida. My ten-year-old sister was standing in the bathroom telling my mother, "He's going to divorce you, you know." But my dad didn't divorce her. He flew down to meet us. I remember our standing on the tarmac of the Jacksonville airpot waving at my father as he came down the steps from the plane. The look he had was this kind of, "We'll be discussing this after the kids go to sleep" kind of expression. But we had a great vacation driving around Florida. And my father never played golf on the Fourth again.
When you see something like that when you're four, your life is never quite the same again.
My sisters love to tell this story. I was too young to witness it myself.
When my eldest sister got married, my two other sisters and my mother threw her a wedding shower. There were all kinds of gifts, including the usual naughty things like raunchy nighties, "marital aids," and so on. One of the other women gave my sister a calendar. My mother opened it and flipped through it, then stopped and turned the calendar this way and that, all with her eyes glued to the page.
One of my sisters, fearing that our very Catholic mother was somehow offended, asked her if something was wrong.
And my mother said, "I went to high school with Mr. May. He asked me out. If I knew then what I know now, I'd have gone out with him!"
I must confess I am more than a little disappointed and disillusioned. I was looking forward to hearing beautiful words of thanks and gratitude directed toward Moms everywhere and only a few people had anything nice to say at all. Nobody loves or is thankful to their Mother? I don't know whether this is more sad or frightening.
I must confess I am more than a little disappointed and disillusioned. I was looking forward to hearing beautiful words of thanks and gratitude directed toward Moms everywhere and only a few people had anything nice to say at all. Nobody loves or is thankful to their Mother? I don't know whether this is more sad or frightening.
Perhaps, they are like me. I had so many wonderful memories of my mom that I couldn't think of just one specific memory that I wanted to share.
Perhaps, some of the people had stories that were too personal or private to share or sort of complicated to explain to others.
Perhaps, some were too busy spending time with their mom to make a post.
----
My mother only had an 8th grade education (common for women born in the 1920s in the country). When she developed health problems in later life she would have the Medical College send her articles from medical journals, so that she would be informed on various treatments.
During one doctor's appointment she asked the specialist if he had considered using "Dr. Sugiyama's method for removing kidney stones". The doctor was stunned and asked my mom how she knew about Dr. Sugiyama's method and she replied that she had read about it in a medical journal article. Now the doctor was even more surprised and shocked. He asked her if she read Japanese. When she replied that she did not, he told her that he did not think that Dr. Sugiyama's work had been translated from the Japanese medical journals.
It turned out that my mom had read the recently translated article in an American medical journal even before the specialist in that field had read the article.
I must confess I am more than a little disappointed and disillusioned. I was looking forward to hearing beautiful words of thanks and gratitude directed toward Moms everywhere and only a few people had anything nice to say at all. Nobody loves or is thankful to their Mother? I don't know whether this is more sad or frightening.
Grow up. I told a pretty funny story about my mother not taking guff off my father, one that is now part of the family lore. It also taught me a great deal about marriage and relationships. What did you expect? A Hallmark Moment?
As a teenager, I wanted to paint my bedroom lavender. My mom and I spent all day painting, but it didn't turn out as lavender as I wanted it, it was too light, and I was very disappointed. The next day, when I came home from school, I told my mom that it looked better, she must have been right about waiting to see it after it dried. Well, it turns out, she had spent the whole day repainting my room by herself. I was flabbergasted that she did that for me. Then I felt ashamed for complaining in the first place.
[quote=Nancy739;34443189]I must confess I am more than a little disappointed and disillusioned. I was looking forward to hearing beautiful words of thanks and gratitude directed toward Moms everywhere and only a few people had anything nice to say at all. Nobody loves or is thankful to their Mother? I don't know whether this is more sad or frightening.[/quote
Not everyone had a perfect little childhood and would prefer not to discuss any part of it whether it be good, bad or indifferent.
Others just don't want to share an intimate part of their lives which is what one's relationship with anyone is.
For me it is a very long story that I choose not to share often, especially with random strangers on a public forum. Besides, I have written about my Mother on the forum before and she knows my feelings for her everyday, not just one day of the year.
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