Remembering Momma
Yesterday was Mother’s Day. Even though she has been gone more than 6 years, I still can’t delete her name and number out of my phone.
I have friends who feel the same way about their Mom. By keeping her name and old messages intact, the umbilical cord that tethered us together will continue. The same is true about old notes in her handwriting.
Last week, I ran across an old grocery list that I just had to keep. Since Mom wrote personal journals for each of us in her handwriting, I still can envision her struggling to write down the episodes before the thought slipped by her.
She wrote in great detail in our journals, about current events that were going on during a particular time. The Depression, WWII, Bay of Pigs, Civil Rights, Vietnam, Watergate, moon landing, assassinations, phones, cell phones, the internet, etc. would blend into her stories.
We were so VERY fortunate for Mother’s mental health. She kept her sharp mind and awareness all the way to the end. She actually helped my wife, Susan, with a crossword puzzle problem on Saturday afternoon, Christmas Day, of 2019. (It was something like a 3-letter word for an Indian village that starts with the letter “U.”)
Our family thought that she was asleep as she mumbled the answer. (By the way, her answer was 100% correct.) Mom was gone 3 days later. She left us with a peaceful smile on her face.
I don’t know if it is politically correct to say this, but here goes: Mother was ready to go. She wasn’t in pain or begging for the end to be near. At the same time, she told my wife about recent dreams of “Big Brad” that were vivid.
Susan asked: “Were they good dreams?” She smiled and responded: “Oh yes. Very good dreams.” Mother many times told us after Daddy’s death in 1988, that he was her one and only real boyfriend in her life. She also said that he was the “most handsome man in the world” when she saw his picture in his Army Air Corps uniform from World War II standing in front of the old home place in Town Creek. His bird dog, Bruno, was by his side.
In my mind, there is no doubt WHATSOEVER that she was met with this greeting: “Well done good and faithful servant.”
What a reunion!
From a selfish standpoint, we wish that Mom was still here. Mother (“Nonnie” to the Grandkids) would be the Mother’s Day queen. Secretly, she would be as close to Heaven as she ever got: wearing a smile surrounded by her kids, Grandkids and Great-Grandkids.
Each would look for an opportunity to sit and share stories with Nonnie. Rest assured, she would get in a few nuggets of Golden advice. They were called “Nonnieisms.”
Each of us remember little things about our Moms. Many of these references don’t make sense to others.
Here are a few memories of my Mother from Mother’s Day:
The smell of her cornbread fresh out of the oven. Her apology for not attending the funeral for one of her former students: “If I go to one, I would have to go to them all.” Watching her struggle to shift gears on the column using her crippled right hand.
Watching her go into character when talking like the “Wicked Witch of the West.” Her voice would send chills up your spine. Getting a little weepy when she would sign our birthday cards with: “A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.”
Waiting for her comment after we would compliment her for a meal that would make Emeril Lagasse want to hang up his apron: “Oh, it was just a little something that I threw together.” Reading my personal journal from her for the 40th time and marveling at the details.
Sitting through her famous or infamous “death report” list when she would call. She would finally get to the deceased person’s name after going through where they lived, who they dated back in high school, what church they attended, the car that they drove, the time that they got in trouble at school for a Halloween prank and who they were named after. At the end: “Oh yeah. Hazeleen Battrum died.”
Her memory of history, both American and World, would amaze you. Don’t ask her the 7 causes of the Civil War unless you plan on staying all afternoon and part of the evening. Mother was the original Google. Only better.
Watching with amazement as she sewed some of our clothes. My sister wore the matching Easter outfits with pride. What would I give for a pair of homemade pajamas that she made?
I can still see her cutting my brother’s hair with a pair of clippers bought from Felton’s Hardware in Leighton when Lee Sanderson and Almer Briley raised their prices to a dollar. We spent more on hats to cover up her clipping mistakes.
Mother would get tickled when cutting and the blade would go to Bob’s scalp. Blood would flow. His head looked like a bloodshot eyeball. Today, I would walk a mile for one of Mother’s homemade haircuts. She also kept her own scorebook for our basketball and baseball games. Mom had her “special” code. She once wrote “THTH” in her baseball scorebook because she heard Daddy say that the ball was Too Hot to Handle. She later changed it to a hit.
I stood in the reception line at her visitation and heard a lady say that she would have flunked out and quit school if it hadn’t been for Mother. The young lady got pregnant and in those days, it meant quitting school. Mom, according to this lady, brought her the daily work from school so that she wouldn’t get behind. She graduated and became a nurse. Her daughter followed in her footsteps.
She told me with pride, that Mother changed their entire family’s life.
When I was playing basketball in college, we all had to be back in the athletic dorm on Sunday night by 9pm after visiting our hometown. This is where the bragging about Mothers started and ended. It was mostly about food that their Mom had cooked.
I have seen a couple of 6’6” athletes almost come to blows, arguing over whose Mother made the best fried chicken or peach cobbler.
See if this sounds familiar:
We bragged about our Dad.
We would FIGHT for our Mother.
Happy belated Mother’s Day.
You earned that crown.