She's always there with you

Even when she's gone, you will still hear mama's voice in your head

Back in the days when a printed newspaper wasn’t just a thing – it was THE thing – the highest honor in journalism was to make it on someone’s refrigerator door.

I was humbled when my columns were affixed with a magnet, hanging like a Van Gogh on the wall. It made me proud to imagine someone reaching for milk to put on their cereal or opening the freezer to fetch a popsicle, would see my words immortalized on the Frigidaire.

Others were clipped and placed in an envelope with a stamp. They were dispatched across the miles to an aunt in Montgomery or a son living in Raleigh.

My mother would often save articles and press them between the pages. Even today, I can open a book she gave to me, and a yellow newspaper clipping will fall out.

A teacher friend once told me she kept a Mother’s Day column I wrote in 1998 and carried it around in her pocketbook. I wonder if it’s still there. Surely, she cleaned out her purse at some point, now that her kids are all grown up.

I began that column with these words.

 “Let me tell you about mamas. You can never tell them enough how much you love them. But you should try anyway. And you’re never too old to kiss your mama. Don’t ever forget it.’’

It was mostly about my mother, but was really a tribute to all mothers. They take care of you when you’re sick, tuck you into bed, send you “care” packages and never miss the opportunity to tell you about how things were back in the good old days.

Even when you leave home and start having children of your own, she never stops being your mama.  She thinks about you constantly. She worries about you when you’re on the road.  She still tells you what to do.  

If you’re smart, you’ll never stop listening because she knows the recipe for everything.  She will tell you life may not be all you want, but it’s all you’ve got … so you might as well stick a geranium in your hat and be happy.

She will never miss a chance to tell you how proud she is of you. 

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that, since this is my first Mother’s Day without my mother, and there is an empty place in my heart.

But I also know I was blessed to have her for 96 years. She was a special lady.

She took me to Sunday School. She sat through my Little League games. She taught me good manners. She made me eat my vegetables and take my hat off at the supper table. She read to me and encouraged me to read. 

She also championed me to become a writer and was my biggest fan. And even though she is no longer with me, I believe in those words I wrote 27 Mother’s Days ago now more than ever.

No matter where you go, what you do or who you see, you will realize that part of mama is always there with you.