My mother, Katherine Sue Cook
Another year, and my mother's birthday has come and gone. I was busy outside trimming bushes and cutting branches when a funny feeling hit me. I looked around at the blue sky as the gentle breeze touched my perspiring skin, and remembered it was Mom's birthday. She died twenty-four years ago at the young age of sixty-six of heart failure after years of suffering with Multiple Sclerosis. But I remember her silly ways and her strong spirit as if she were still with me.
Mom's laughter covered the years of pain she experienced before she met my father. Her first husband was murdered right before her eyes. Mom never told me she had been married before until I was a teen-ager (we were in the kitchen washing dishes), and she mentioned it casually, as if she was talking about the next-door neighbor. And she didn't tell me he was murdered until I was married with children (I was driving her to the hair salon), and then she talked as if it were a TV program she had watched the night before, except her voice was shaking.
Have you ever wondered why our mothers act the way they do, or say the things they say? Perhaps they have secrets they are afraid to tell their daughters. Or as daughters, we really don't take the time to think about our mother's past until we're much older.
For those of you who still have your moms around, extend some grace next time they act a little strange, ask one too many questions, or put a demand on you that you don't have time for. As we give grace, so shall our daughters.
I had no idea where this blog was going today--I just sat down and let my fingers take me to that place where someone needed encouragement. Or maybe it's because I'm heading to California in a few days to stay with my daughter.*smile*
Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you and I'm looking forward to being with you again some day. Love, your Daughter