Happy Birthday, Dear Karen.....
One year ago today, I woke up to a quiet December morning. The light was just beginning to seep in through the blinds and the baby was still sleeping soundly in the crib beside me. I blinked my eyes, trying to recall what day it was, and where I was supposed to be. "Mom!" I grabbed my cell phone and checked for messages. There were none. A smile spread across my face. No messages...! That meant my Mom was still here. She was waiting for me. A tear pricked my eyes and I hurried to get ready for the day.
As I stood in the shower I remember what she had said to me just a few days before. She and I and some of my sisters were sprawled across her bed. The afternoon sun was filling the room... just the way Mom liked it. She wanted to talk about her funeral. She wanted me to sing. I told her I didn't know if I would be able to sing at her funeral. She made it clear that she wanted me to try. I told her that I would try and she agreed to allow me to have a back-up plan. That morning in the shower I thought of my three children and of Mom and her six children. I thought of how I had benefitted from her help and the help of my mother-in-law in raising those three children, but Mom had not had a mother or mother-in-law to help her raise her six children. I thought of the privilege I would have to sit beside her bed today and I decided that I would sing for my mother, somehow, I would do it. If Mom could be strong... so could I. When I sang, it made Mom happy and to make her happy was something I wanted to do more than anything else on that day.
So, I went over to the house and I told her good morning. Even though she could not talk back to me anymore, I thanked her for waiting for my birthday. I told her it was the most wonderful present I had ever been given. I put her make-up on her and I fixed her hair and I stayed all day. When the night fell, I did not go home. Neither did any of my siblings. We all wanted to stay. We wanted to be near her. We decided that we would take turns sitting up with her through the night. I borrowed my sister's sweat pants and crept into the tiny bedroom where Mom had set up a twin bed and a crib for my children. The baby slept in the crib and I curled up beside my little girl, spooning her as I tried to sleep and feeling my mother's spirit; her love strong and filling her house. And somewhere inside of me, I knew it was the last night. So, I barely slept. I didn't want to really. I felt my arms encircling my little girl and I felt my mother's heart encircling mine. I thought of the little heart shaped necklace she was wearing that said, "A mother holds her child's hands for a short while, but their hearts forever." I whispered to my little girl that one day I would wear that necklace and one day she would wear it and the three of us would always be together that way, wrapped up and tangled together always by the love that was in our hearts for each other. Not even death can kill love. She snuggled in closer to me and I rubbed my face on her slick black hair that fell like ribbons over the pillow. I smelled her little girl smell and I knew more clearly than ever before just how much my mother had always loved me. I was grateful.
It was a beautiful day.
As I stood in the shower I remember what she had said to me just a few days before. She and I and some of my sisters were sprawled across her bed. The afternoon sun was filling the room... just the way Mom liked it. She wanted to talk about her funeral. She wanted me to sing. I told her I didn't know if I would be able to sing at her funeral. She made it clear that she wanted me to try. I told her that I would try and she agreed to allow me to have a back-up plan. That morning in the shower I thought of my three children and of Mom and her six children. I thought of how I had benefitted from her help and the help of my mother-in-law in raising those three children, but Mom had not had a mother or mother-in-law to help her raise her six children. I thought of the privilege I would have to sit beside her bed today and I decided that I would sing for my mother, somehow, I would do it. If Mom could be strong... so could I. When I sang, it made Mom happy and to make her happy was something I wanted to do more than anything else on that day.
So, I went over to the house and I told her good morning. Even though she could not talk back to me anymore, I thanked her for waiting for my birthday. I told her it was the most wonderful present I had ever been given. I put her make-up on her and I fixed her hair and I stayed all day. When the night fell, I did not go home. Neither did any of my siblings. We all wanted to stay. We wanted to be near her. We decided that we would take turns sitting up with her through the night. I borrowed my sister's sweat pants and crept into the tiny bedroom where Mom had set up a twin bed and a crib for my children. The baby slept in the crib and I curled up beside my little girl, spooning her as I tried to sleep and feeling my mother's spirit; her love strong and filling her house. And somewhere inside of me, I knew it was the last night. So, I barely slept. I didn't want to really. I felt my arms encircling my little girl and I felt my mother's heart encircling mine. I thought of the little heart shaped necklace she was wearing that said, "A mother holds her child's hands for a short while, but their hearts forever." I whispered to my little girl that one day I would wear that necklace and one day she would wear it and the three of us would always be together that way, wrapped up and tangled together always by the love that was in our hearts for each other. Not even death can kill love. She snuggled in closer to me and I rubbed my face on her slick black hair that fell like ribbons over the pillow. I smelled her little girl smell and I knew more clearly than ever before just how much my mother had always loved me. I was grateful.
It was a beautiful day.
