5 minute read
A Mother’s Love Never Ends
by Lisa Harris
A Moment in memory of Whitney
The wind was blowing ever so slightly as the cool air seemed to float in on the deep red and gold-tipped leaves. The moment was familiar as she slipped on her garden gloves to pull a few unyielding weeds that seemed to appear year after year. Her garden shears came out of her back pocket to clip a few uneven areas of grass. She loved doing this by hand, it gave her much joy. She stood surveying what had been done and decided that a few yellow mums would add much-needed fall color. Her eyes traveled around surveying her work while she listened to the wind chimes sing and sway in cadence on the limb of an oak tree. After a few moments, she spread a blanket beside her daughter’s grave and gently wiped the dirt off the plaque that gathered between each letter. One by one she went over it with tissues as though she was wiping her child’s face. It had been years since she looked into her eyes and heard her voice say ‘Mom’. The pain was real, just not as sharp. It was mellow and tender and sacred. The sun was settling in for the night, and she leaned over and kissed the ground that her child lay tucked under. She folded her blanket, placed her gloves and shears back into her pockets, and walked away. Yes, that moment was familiar and always would be...because I am that Mom. In memory of Whitney
One Last Time... In memory of Luke
Her eyes, once joyful, were sad as she stared at the two piles of laundry.
Worried she would not have time to get it all done, she grabbed one pile and walked back to the laundry room dropping them in the wash.
She turned to get the bottle of detergent accidentally tipping it over and spilling a bit onto the floor.
Staring at the mess, she just repositioned herself around it and poured the correct amount into the small drawer inside the washer. Flipping the knob to the ‘normal’ wash, she stood there and watched the machine fill up with water through the glass top.
In the beginning, she thought it odd to have a top-load with a window…
But today, it was soothing to watch the clothes suds up and swish around. Standing there she allowed her mind to wander and tears to flow.
Today was hard.
Life was hard.
God NEVER promised life would be easy but…
She turned around and walked down the hall back to the second pile of laundry. This mound of clothes was not quite as big, but it had a familiar smell that made her bury her face in it. Her heart pounded as she took the wet clothes and placed them in the dryer and added a new load to the washer. It was with great hesitation that she did this, as the shirts would be clean, the familiar smell gone.
The heaviness of the day drew a tiredness she had rarely experienced.
She laid down and closed her eyes to escape life’s reality. Only a few minutes had passed when the dryer buzzer rang out and she reluctantly got up and switched out the clothes. She had to hurry.
Setting up the ironing board she walked to the kitchen and filled a cup with water. In a few minutes, she would pour it into her iron and watch the steam spit and sputter letting her know it was ready.
After the agony of what to iron was made, she placed the t-shirt on the board and began to do what she had done for years. Love her family.
Tears fell as she ironed the shirt and placed it on a hanger. She then picked up a favorite green plaid flannel shirt and begged God to stop the tears so she could see to iron. He did. It was ironed to perfection.
She never ironed blue jeans, but today she did and hung them carefully on the hanger. Time was slipping away.
Changing clothes, she took the hanger off the hook and got into the car with her husband.
The silence was thick as they each tried to survive their emotions. Driving up, they parked the car and got out.
After being greeted and ushered into a room, a woman with kind eyes turned and held out her hand.
Tears flowed as she gave over her son’s clothes. The woman, a stranger, hugged her.
For this was the last time she would do anything ‘motherly’ for her son.
Her heart was crushed.
Her emotions were raw. Decisions were made. A check was written.
Her son’s clothes were taken to where he was.
He was dressed.
He was so handsome, so young, so very deeply loved. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. Trying to absorb every detail she could.
She desperately wanted a hug, one more, “I love you, Mom.” One last time. But, The casket was shut. Only by God’s sheer strength within her, did she turn around and walk out. Knowing she would never be the same, Ever.
