Eighteen Years ago I got a call at work that I needed to go downtown to the hospital that something had happened to my mother. My father was already there and needed me. She had been preparing lunch for a big meeting in the conference room when she felt ill to her stomach. She sat down to rest and someone went to get her her glass of water. By the time the person had come back she was no longer with us. She was 66 and had a sudden heart attack and I was 27. I had not taken a look at what I wrote to be read in church for her funeral for a long time until last night.
My heart is filled with so many memories of you Mom and I would like to share them with everyone. My favorite memories of when I was little are playing dolls with you, our tea parties, helping you in the garden and watching you bake. You really did make the best apple pie I have ever tasted and you were always sharing your chocolate chip cookies with my friends. Do you remember when I was five years old and you learned how to ice-skate with me? I remember that every year you would buy things and put them away until Christmas but there was always something you would forget about. Spring would come and you would suddenly find something and tell me to close my eyes. You would giggle and say Merry Christmas; better late then never.
We had such a special relationship. We were more then mother and daughter; we were best friends. There was nothing I couldn’t talk to you about. You had a special way of making the toughest times of my life easier by listening and giving the best advice. Your laughter and smile was infectious. We had so many long talks where you would tell me all about your life. I remember all the times we would go shopping, go to the movies or plays and go to church together.
Mom you made home such a special place to be. You always made my friends feels so welcome and you became a second mother to them. The one memory that is most dear to me is the way you hugged. If you had been hugged by my mom you would know that it was from the heart.
Ever so often mom, you would ask me (with a small grin) if I loved you and I would say yes. You would ask me why and I would answer because you are my mom. It is only now that I really know what I meant by that.