- Posted June 7, 2014 by
Siloam Springs, Arkansas
This iReport is part of an assignment:
First Person: Your essays
A Letter to Mom
As I sit here looking out at a grey sky, my mind started to wander (not a good thing at times...). I started thinking about my mom. It started this morning when Terri and I were talking on how we remember some things and forget others, so Mom...I know it's late since you've been gone for over five years, and I know you always knew how I felt, but here goes:
Thanks, Mom, for giving me life, for loving me, rocking me, for making sure I had food (sometimes at the want of your own), that I had shelter (even though I had to sleep with Doug for a while in a small trailer bed), for making sure I had a Christmas even though I'm sure it was something you really didn't want to do for several years after Dad died. Thank you for staying up with me when I was sick, when I was hurt (at the time, having a nurse for a mom didn't lend to much to sympathy...just saying), and later in life when I was hurt emotionally. Thank you for sacrificing yourself at times so Doug and I could have a party, a sleepover, a second helping, the last piece of pie. You were THERE which in hindsight means more than anything.
Thanks, Mom, for disciplining me and making sure I did my school work, my chores, for teaching me that I should NOT expect things to be handed to me just "because", but to make sure I earned them. Thanks for teaching me through word and action the meaning of hard work and the joy in receiving the blessings of that work.
Thanks, Mom, for raising me up in the love (not fear) of the Lord and His Son Jesus. Yes, I strayed, and yes, there are days I still fail to measure up, but thanks for giving me that base, that rock on which to stand.
Thanks, Mom, for loving (eventually) the love of my life. I know at the time you may have had issues, but in the end, you loved Terri and my children with a love that knew no bounds.
Thanks, Mom, for showing me in the last days of your life how to die with grace and humility in the eyes of God. I hope when my time comes I can do the same.
Sure, I could have gone on about all of the things I didn't get, that I thought I deserved, those few times that mom couldn't be at one of my Little League games, a football game, a wrestling match, when I didn't get a certain toy or rifle (as I got older), or some "thing" I desperately wanted, etc. but you know what, Mom? I think I'll choose to only remember what you DID do for me. One day, I thank you again in person. I wish I had told you this more when you were still here with us.
I love you Mom.
(The picture was taken outside the US Hospital in Bremerhaven, Germany on my return home from Desert Storm. Mom and my little girl...she's not so little anymore.)