Happy Mother’s Day!

My mother will celebrate from the beauty of heaven as she has for the last nine years.   There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of her.  So many of you can relate.  We find ourselves in the awkward place of celebrating being a mother but not having a mother on earth anymore.  Every once in a while, I have the blessing of dreaming about her and, wow, do those dreams seem real.   I cherish them. So, this year I thought I’d write what it might feel like to dream about someone gone from this earth but never forgotten.  I hope you enjoy and find comfort in this short story about a young woman named Celia who’s not that different than you or me. 

The Dream

It was a chilly night, so she pulled out the quilt her Mama had sewn from the cedar chest and draped it over the bed; she piled it on top of the comforter just for good measure.  The quilt was old and coming apart at the seams, but that didn’t matter to Celia; to her, the quilt was beautiful.  It was all the colors of spring her Mama would say as she wrapped her up in it each night, and that’s all Celia needed to hear.  Spring was her favorite.   She looked out the window and saw the beautiful pink azaleas blooming just outside and it made her smile.  Spring was never boring with its colorful blossoms, sunny days and cool nights; Celia lived for the new life and foliage that emerged after a long winter.

She ran her hands across the worn places on the beloved quilt and spoke to the quiet around her, “I miss you, Mama.  What I wouldn’t give for five minutes with you.”   She’d no sooner spoken the words than she forgot all about them.  She washed her face, brushed her teeth then crawled into bed for the night.  By lamplight she read God’s Word then laid her head on the cool pillow.   “Lord,” she prayed after turning off the lamp by her bed, “thank you for this day.  Thank you for taking care of me and loving me.  I don’t understand so much of my life right now, but I’m trusting you to walk me through each day.”  She kept praying until she drifted into sleep.  Or she thought she was sleeping, she sat up and rubbed her eyes because surely she was seeing things.  It was that smile, the one she’d seen more times than she could count.  The one who’d made sunny days happier and dark nights bearable.  “Mama?”  Celia called out but there was no answer, just that radiant smile.  It almost seemed like she glowed, but Celia knew that couldn’t be, could it?  She knew it was her, she didn’t need an answer, she would know her anywhere.  She was wearing her plain blue sensible house dress with a white apron and Celia laughed out loud with pure joy at the sight.  “Mama!  Oh, Mama!  I’ve missed you!”   She ran and threw her arms around her as tears spilled onto her cheeks.   She felt the warmth of her Mother’s hands stroke the back of her head and she realized she hadn’t felt so comforted since, well, since her Mom had gone to heaven.  “I love you, Mama, can’t you please come back?  I’m so lost and lonely without you.”  In that moment the thought came to Celia, maybe the last few years were all a bad dream?  Maybe her Mom was still alive; this moment felt so real.  Celia couldn’t make sense of it, was this some sort of a dream?  She gripped her Mama tighter, as if holding on would keep her from leaving, Celia didn’t think she could bear the loss again.   

Then she remembered; while holding on tight to Mama’s blue dress, she remembered what she’d said right before bed.  She’d asked for five minutes with Mama.  Was this an answer to prayer?  Without ever expressing her thoughts into words, she knew the answer; she was given her request.

Suddenly she felt the urgency of the moment, time was passing and she had so much to say. She leaned back so there was some space between them, wiped her damp cheeks on the back of her hand, and began. “Mama, I want to say a few things before I wake up or you vanish or something happens and this is all over.  I love you.  I love you so much it hurts to think of you” The tears started again and her voice cracked beneath the weight of the words.  “I feel like a part of me died with you.”  She paused, thinking about what needed to be said in a moment like this.  Then she began again, in almost a holy whisper, “you were the best Mama.  I know we didn’t always agree, but you were so good to me.  You loved me when I was impossible and when I was ungrateful, you just loved me. I don’t know how you were so patient, and I want you to know I found my way, I’m doing well and I’m thriving, most days.” The dark of the night began to seep into the edges of the moment and Celia could feel the cool night air on her face.    “Will the pain of missing you ever go away?”  Celia could sense time slipping and the embrace of her Mother fading.  “Mama, I love you, why do you have to go?”    The tears came in earnest and her whole body shook with the agony of loss.   She didn’t hear any words, at least not the kind you’d expect, it was more of a knowing, an impression of love that warmed Celia from head to toe.  “I love you too, Mama!” 

And then she woke up.

She was gripping the quilt so tightly her knuckles hurt and her pillow was wet with tears; the night was still except for the sound of her breathing.   She lay there, staring into the dark, wishing she were still asleep and in the arms of her Mom.   It’s true what they say, she thought, no one takes the place of your Mama.   She rolled over and pulled the covers up to her nose, the slightly musty smell of the quilt made her feel strangely comforted.  “Oh Lord,” she whispered into the night, “thank you for five minutes with Mama, you gave me the greatest gift of all this Mother’s Day.” 

It wasn’t until later Celia realized her heart felt lighter.  She’d had only a few minutes with her Mom and she hadn’t wasted them grappling over issues that don’t matter one bit, things she used to talk about that often sparked disagreement.  No, not this time, this time she’d used her time wisely and told her Mama the things that really mattered.  It wasn’t a mystery to her why she felt a part of her had healed; she’d said the important things and there was sweet relief.  As she stood over the gravestone that marked the resting place of the greatest woman she’d ever known, she spoke quietly, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mama, it was good to see you last night.  I love you.”

The End.

This Mother’s Day say the things that really matter and leave no kind word unspoken.   Trust me, this is advice you will never regret.