I’ve been thinking, Mother, for a long, long time now about all the IOU's I’ve been carrying around with me. In fact, my heart is brimming with them, and it’s high time I sorted them all out to pay up. After all, you taught me to pay my debts promptly.
You, my precious Mother, I owe for night watchman service— the nights you received little sleep, because you stayed up to feed or doctor me when I was--oh, so small and sick. IOU, Mom, for your ability as a chief cook and bottlewasher. I’m indebted to you for your success and creativity in substituting, magically making a little stretch farther, and quite a bit of self-denial when there wasn’t enough food to go around. I’m grateful to you for making strong, healthy bodies for me and my brothers and sisters with a limited food budget. I also thank you for not allowing me to be a picky eater.
Mother, I owe you a huge laundress bill. I should have watched and learned from you how to wash clothes properly, because the first time I did my laundry at college was certainly an embarrassing experience! (Never wash whites and colored clothes together in hot water. Almost everyone during my freshman year called me 'Pinky Catrett,' because that was the color my error had turned all my whites). But when I was growing up in your lovely home, I was convinced that I didn’t have time to learn from you about trivial matters. Boy, was I a foolish lad!
And finally, the entertainment I owe you is enormous. You went out of your way to ensure that Christmas was a warm and joyous time and that birthdays were a special time of togetherness. IOU for so much fun: the card games on snow-bound winter evenings with hilarious family stories; for the picnics; swimming excursions; and fishing trips on summer days gone by. The little boy in me wants to say, “Thank you, Mamma!” Oh, the joy you taught us for the simple pleasures in living! We paid little for homemade entertainment, but IOU just the same.
How can I pay all these IOU’s, Mother? I know and I can almost hear you say, “There is no charge for love, dear son.” But I also realize that you’d mark the whole bill “paid in full” for a kiss and a big bear hug as well as those four little words that are priceless: “Mother, I love you!”
With all praise and tenderness of the heart, it is important to remember that mothers and their children form complicated relationships. Mothers are not perfect and neither are the children. Some mothers are confidants, others are critics. Some mothers maintain control even into their children’s adulthood, and others foster a sense of independence early on. Whatever your relationship with your mother, it is important to acknowledge your feelings and grieve what has been lost.
When you lose your mother, your loss hits on many levels. May I share with you a few that you may be experiencing right now or you have already experienced? First,the loss of unconditional love is often a loss that no one else can understand, much less fill. A mother’s love is often tested, but rarely fails. How about the loss of identity? As life goes on, people may say of you, “She is her mother’s daughter—she is a master cook,” or “He is his mother’s son--he loves to read.” In each case, one’s mother is a point of reference in determining one’s identity. Even if that involves the admission that “She or he is not one bit like her or his mother,” it is nonetheless a point of reference. When a mother dies, we lose a piece of who we are.
Have you ever thought about the loss of family connection? Mothers love to see and be with their children. The next best thing is staying in contact with her children either through telephone conversations, letters, and now even e-mail messages of love. Many times mother is the glue that holds the family together, and once she is gone, the family drifts from being connected to one another. Then some experience the loss of protection. The message of most mothers of any species says, “Don’t mess with my children.” Even into adulthood, mothers look out for their children, and God help anyone who attempts harm. That shield of protection, both physical, emotional, and sometimes spiritually, too, is lost when a mother dies.
What about the loss of what we have taken for granted? Mother’s Day, Christmas, and Easter. For me, every other Saturday night I would call my mother to hear her voice and to express my love and appreciation for her, but now that’s all gone, and I miss those times dearly. They are often painful reminders of the loss endured. One last thought before I say good-bye to her the loss of what will never again happen! Not every mother/child relationship works like mine did. When a relationship has been particularly difficult or complicated a mother’s death means that the opportunity to make peace face-to-face is gone. That is a loss of another kind -- the loss of a dream, of a hope that things could be better. It may feel as if there are no more options, no more possibilities for closure, and that means accepting imperfection.
Two positive thoughts before I leave you—be gentle and patient with yourself. Letting go is a long process. It is important to give voice and acknowledgement to painful realities as a first step in the healing process. Try to remember that your mother was human. Don’t glorify her memory by making her bigger in death than she was in life. Also, celebrate memories by telling stories about your mom; make a contribution to her favorite charity; donate a book to the library in her name; plant a tree in her memory. There are a hundred and one things you could do to honor your mother’s precious memory. Just do it!
When we lose our mothers, we lose much that can’t be replaced. But we are also left with much to cherish—memories, unique personality traits and strengths, wisdom, and hopefully, an example that can inspire us to offer nurturing love to those who remain in our lives. A mother’s love, after all, is never lost if it is passed on.
John T. Catrett, III Chaplain at Refuge Care Hospice 306 North Main Street, Suite A Bristow, OK 74010 (918) 352-3080 john.catrett3@gmail.com