I Remember My Mother

My mother has been gone now for nine years. She was a special person and very worth remembering. I think of her often and I have many memories, but, most recently, I remember her presence when I was in junior high and high school. My good friend, Tory, reminded me in an e-mail of how much fun we would have sitting in the kitchen of my home talking about the "issue of the day" with my mother. It was routine for a bunch of my friends and me to come to my house and hang out in the kitchen and snack. She was always there in the background usually getting dinner ready. For many years, I had not given these gatherings much thought.

Now as I reflect, I think these times were very significant. My mom was a funny one. She was always provoking conversation about just about anything from abortion to current events to gardening. (Even just days before her death she was engaging my husband in a theological discussion about what is really happening when people experience the stigmata.) She would usually start out with, "Well, girls, what do you think about . . ." So we would talk and laugh and talk and laugh. It was fun. I have no idea what my mother's intention was or if she even had one. I just know that she was there with us in a unique and special way and that it felt good and natural, not intrusive. She gave us something. The only word I have to describe what it was is she gave us her presence.

As a young person I really did not appreciate this presence much, but as an adult and a Marriage and Family Therapist, I see how powerful and important that an engaged presence is in relationships. It makes people feel loved, respected, and important. I was lucky to have a mother who could do this. She made a commitment to never work outside the home after 3 p.m. until my baby sister was in college. She wanted to be there with us. I feel lucky that I was brought up in a time when life was a bit simpler and perhaps less expensive, giving her the freedom to do this for me and my sisters. It was good for us and what we needed.

Thank you Mother. I wish you were still here.