Yesterday was Mother’s Day. The day we honor the women who brought us into the world. My Mom died twenty-five years ago. I still miss her and sing happy birthday every year on her special day. When I raised my daughter, I remembered many of her special holiday treats. The way she iced an angel food cake with strawberry ice cream for birthdays.
She raised seven of us with very little. My father worked long hours and my mom did most of the day-to-day parenting. It should go without saying, I rarely agreed with my mom. Yet, I respected her. Her life wasn’t easy, and it was harder before she married. A child of the Great Depression with an alcoholic father. Her siblings were separated and sent to live with other relatives.
My mother went to Los Angeles to live with an uncle. She never shared this with us. Her brother did after she died. Members of the Greatest Generation didn’t talk about their pasts. They did what needed to be done. She cooked, sowed, canned, cleaned, shopped, mowed lawns, grew a garden and raised seven children.
I miss you mom and thank you. Love always.