Sunday, May 2, 2010
Guest Post**Remembering My Mom--By Steve Sears
I've tried to think of even the tiniest kernel, to define my relationship between my mom and I.
I've been thinking and thinking and, even though people are different, have different feelings, reactions, personalities and more, I'm trying to think of just one simple thing that unites ALL children to their Mothers.
I don't know about you, but my Mom was always there for me. After two miscarriages, she carried me for eight months and delivered me a month early. She always told me I was the best baby; I played in my crib without a peep.
She held me when I was sick with bad cases of yearly bronchitis as a youngster, was in the hospital with me when I had an appendectomy and two hernia operations (one at 16 months, another at age 26), answered the phone on one ring when my wife miscarried our first child, enthusiastically answered the phone when my wife gave birth to my truest joy in life, my daughter Stefanie, and she held my hand when I suffered a heart attack at age 34.
After that, she always made sure I kept up with my cardiology appointments. She even taught me an all important life lesson that I will always live by: "Your religion is how you treat people."
She was all this, and more, to me. I realize it now more than ever.
Regardless, I used to whine to my wife that, whenever my Mom called and we talked, she complained constantly, and that I couldn't wait for the phone calls to end. Also, even though we lived in close proximity and we enjoyed occasional lunches together, I rarely visited her. My wife would often say to me, "Remember one thing -- one day you're going to want to talk to her, and she won't be here to talk to you."
On February 18, 2007, my Mom passed away.
I apologize if the following appears preachy or even hypocritical, but I will say this. I don't have my Mom to visit or talk to today.
Like many, my visits and speeches are now limited to peering at and speaking to a stone marker in a graveyard, and via prayers, hoping and believing that she'll hear me.
Worthy, bittersweet, good stuff, but certainly not the same as true flesh and blood.
Many reading this are lucky enough to have their Moms still with them. Make that phone call, pay a visit, tell them you love them. If you haven't spoken to or seen your Mom for a while for whatever reason, reach out.
One day, she won't be here...