When my mother was terminally ill, I asked her, “Can you imagine anything worse that what you are going through?”
Without having to think, she responded, "If any of my children were going through this instead of me."
And in that moment I began to understand a phrase she had mentioned many times. Nothing compares to a mother’s love.
Pure. Unconditional. Love.
I am not a mom. I don’t fully understand this quite yet. But I hope to someday soon.
As I get older, I realize, my mom was often right. I fought with her rules and constantly challenged her direction. I didn’t enjoy growing up in a strict religious home. And I rebelled.
Now I see. Now I understand. That mom’s are often right. She wanted what was best for her children and she knew more than we did.
Although my mom lived to only 61, she did what she loved most. And that was loving her children. She sewed us clothes at Christmas.
She sewed us bedspreads and prom dresses and she made us our favorite home cooked meals. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. She painted us pictures and wrote us letters when we moved away. She bought us second hand clothes. She passed away in March, but had already prepared our Christmas presents for December. She listened to us when we were down and out, and she didn’t take our shit. She stood her ground and although she was 5”2’ with soft green eyes, she was a spitfire. She took care of us, and she loved us to death. She was a mom before anything else in life. A mom. Her greatest and most meaningful role in life.
So this blog is for Mom’s. Mom’s of all sorts. Because you are, above all, mothers. You might be moms who gave birth, moms who've lost, moms who adopted, moms who married into a family, moms of dogs and moms of cats, moms and mentors to children.
To all you moms. I bow in gratitude and I am inspired by you all.