You’re never old enough to stop missing your mom
In response to Linda J. White’s June 2 column [“You’re never old enough to lose your mom” ], like Linda, I lost my mom three years ago on D-Day+1. My mom was a petite woman with long auburn hair, green eyes and a fiery temper to match, but she also had a heart of gold.
She loved to sing and dance. She kept a spotless home and kept her four children under a tight rein. It wasn’t an easy task raising three boys and myself—my parents were divorced. As a young woman, she worked as a telegraph operator, but after she lost my only sister on her birthday, she was never the same. She still sang and danced, but there was a sadness about her that I never understood until I lost my oldest son.
She was the woman who nursed me when I was sick, held me and kissed away my tears, encouraged me to do my best, stood by me at my wedding, and was with me when I birthed her first grandchild. She called me daily after I lost my son, bullying me to eat and putting up with my sharp tongue as I dealt with my loss.
She would say to me, “I wish I could take your pain away,” but she knew it was a road I had to walk with my husband.
After my grandmother died, during our phone calls mom always said to me, “Sandy, I miss my mother so much, you have no idea how much.” The morning I got the call that my mom had passed, I knew she was gone. I felt her go. She had finally joined my grandmother.
Linda, I’m so very sorry for your loss. God bless our moms.
And Mom, I get it.