Remembering Mom

A couple of weeks ago, I received an email from Zach's soccer coach asking if we'd be interested in participating in a tournament on Mother's Day weekend.  Just hearing the words Mother's Day reduced me to tears.  I promptly closed the email and pretended that I didn't get it.  Then the coach texted me with the same question...  More tears and a feeling of dread, as I texted "yes".  Mother's Day must go on.

A few days later it occurred to me that she would miss my graduation.

First, I'd tearfully anticipated Easter.  Then Zach was in the ER with strep throat the night before, so all of our Easter plans were canceled.

Then my nephew's birthday party was this past Saturday.  It was weird and sad to be there without Mom, but still such a blessed time to celebrate Jarrad and be with family.

Soon it will be Mother's Day.  Then my birthday.  Then my graduation.

Interestingly enough, very similar to how the sadness of missing her hits like a ton of bricks unexpectedly, so does the joy of having known her.  Thankfully, these joyful reminders happen throughout the day, every day.

As I slipped a black shirt on this morning, I caught my reflection in the mirror.  I was wearing two different blacks that didn't quite match.  I smiled ... and then changed clothes.  Mom always told me that it was impossible to match blacks if it wasn't purchased as a set.

She also told me never to wear pink lipstick with red clothing, or vice versa.  I never have.

I get a good laugh every time I hear her saying, "It's very important for a wife to rise in the morning before her husband so she can brush her teeth, wash her face and straighten her hair before he sees her."  Who does that? 

There were also strict instructions to brush my hair 100 strokes before bed every night to make it shinier.  I didn't have time for that as a kid, and I'm afraid that if I did it now it would simply fall out!
 
She also thought that shaving legs was critically important; however, I vividly remember frequently sitting between her stubbly legs as she'd braid or curl my hair when I was young (torture times two - being scratched by her stubbly legs and the traumatic hair styling!).

All of my mom's talks must have hit home though, as a razor and tooth brush are the two comfort items I'd want if heading out to Survivor Island.  (Do they still take comfort items?)  And I will forever haunt the caregiver who fails to shave my legs if I'm ever incapacitated!

I see her hands every time I look down at my own.  I hear her voice every time I gasp in surprise.  Potato soup, baked mac and cheese, and stuffed peppers remind me of Mom, as do scarves and the Sound of Music.

Remembering her makes me smile, and laugh...  And these are merely the reminders I've had of Mom today!  Praise God that tomorrow is another day, and it will surely greet me with other reminders of her.