My Mother passed away nearly twenty-eight years ago at the age of fifty-nine.  She had cancer, and the last few months of her life were grueling.  The pain was excruciating, and I prayed to GOD to pass it to me.  He didn’t.

I felt such guilt (and to this day, I still do), for I was the one who convinced her to have the recommended surgery two years before.  She just wanted to die.  And I, being selfish, and not thinking about what was going thru her mind, talked her into the surgery.  I didn’t want to lose my Mom.  I loved her so.

My Dad was strong.  Even though he knew that I was wrong, he didn’t say a word.  He understood.

Still today, I think of my Mom daily.  I miss our discussions, our arguments, and our laughter.  I still talk to her, but it’s not the same.

I remember as a child sitting on her lap, and feeling the warmth only a Mother can give.  It was comforting, and it was safe.  As an adult, she would sit on my lap and we would laugh about it.  The feeling I had was still the same.  Moms make all the problems seem to disappear with the love for their children.

Mom taught me so many things.  I remember fondly one of the songs she used to sing as she busily worked around the house, or driving the car, or just sitting on the sofa daydreaming.  I didn’t think of it at the time, but as she sang this song, she was probably thinking of her Mom.

“M – is for the million things she gave me,

O – means only that she’s growing old,

T – is for the tears she shed to save me,

H – is for her heart of purist gold,

E – is for her eyes with love light shining,

R – means right and right she’ll always be,

Put them all together and they spell MOTHER,

A word that means the world to me.”

Over the last few years, as I head towards the end of my life here on earth, I find myself singing this song.  Don’t know why.   Must be thinking about Mom.  With the grace of GOD, Mom and I will once again be together.  And she will comfort me.  I love you, Mom.

Pardon me for rambling, but please continue to read.  The following will warm your heart, make you laugh, and bring a tear to your eye.

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The young boy had just entered junior high school.  During his first week in the new school, the Band Director spoke before the homeroom class and asked if any of the students would like to join the band.  He went on to say how being a member of the band builds character, and teaches teamwork.  They would be taught how to read and write music, and learn how to play a really cool instrument.

That night at home, the boy was trying to decide which instrument he would play if he did join.  He finally narrowed it down to two, the drums or the guitar.  If he is good at either, maybe when he is older, he could play in a Rock Band.  He goes to Mom for her advice.

“Mom, I’m thinking about joining the band at school, and I want your advice on which instrument to play,” he asked.

“Oh, that’s easy Honey…..play the cello”, she answered.

“The cello!……That’s for girls”, he exclaimed.

“Not really, Son.  My Father, your Grandfather, played the cello in a band for years, and was quite accomplished.  Had he not decided on medicine as a career, he could have been quite famous as a cellist”, she said.

Reluctantly, taking his Mom’s advice, he chose the cello.  For four years, he drug that brown wooden box back and forth to school every day.  As time passed, the boy learned to love the cello, and the burden got lighter and lighter.  He loved the mellow, and almost hypnotic,  sound it emitted.  “Mom was right”, he thought.

He earned a scholarship to a prestigious Music Academy, and excelled as a featured soloist on the cello.  After graduation from the academy, he was invited by a famous symphony orchestra to audition.  After playing just two pieces, he was offered a position with the orchestra.  He played from his heart,  just like his Mother said that he should.  “Thank you Mom”.

Several years later, while visiting his Mother, she was leafing through a photo album, and called him to her side.  She pointed to an old faded  photograph of a small orchestra, and to a young man on the front row.

“That’s your Grandfather with is little cello”, she said with pride.

He gasped.  As tears started to run down his face, he began to laugh and hugged his Mother tightly.

“Why Son, what’s the matter”? she asked, perplexed at his behavior.

As he hugged his Mother even tighter, the love for her pouring from his heart, he laughed as he pointed to the young man in the photo and said,

“Mom………….. that’s a violin”.

“Oh”.

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And we thought Moms were perfect.  Well, they are not.  Even though they seem to be superhuman at times, they are still human.

Sunday May the 13^th is Mothers Day.  Make sure that you visit, or call your Mom, and say “ThankYou”.  If your Mom has passed, say a prayer, for she is always listening.

Til we meet again.

FB   05/12/12