I dread Mother’s Day. It’s not that I don’t wish for those of
you who are mothers or have mothers living to have a miserable day or
something, it’s just me and what the day brings to me.
Me and Mom...the Steinbeck Grapes of Wrath version
I loved the way we celebrated Mother’s Day with my mom. Most
often, we served her breakfast in bed and later, we had a special dinner to
celebrate her. Most often, if the weather prevailed, we had the dinner outdoors
in the orchard. Rainy days it was the screened-in porch. Living in the south,
Mother’s Day generally fell on a warm day, sometimes even hot. With no air
conditioning, we usually opted for an outdoor celebration. I can still remember
the sun shining down on us, the smell of Mom’s roses, and the warm breeze
blowing through the Pear and Apple trees. No matter what we gave her, Mom
always seemed to love our presents.
My mother spent most of my growing up years fighting rheumatic
heart disease. I never really understood how brave she was or what she endured
for our sakes. I didn’t know until she died. She spent her last days on Earth
in a room across from the nurses’ station on the unit where I worked at Mercy
Hospital. At least I got to spend time with her while I was at work. On Thanksgiving Day in 1974 I tried to get her to eat, but she was
too sick. By the next evening, she had left this earthly plane. She was only fifty-four. I was
twenty-seven. I wasn’t ready. Even though she’d been steadily losing her
health, I was unprepared to let her go.
Mom in the 1950's With Her Pop Bead Necklace
Even now, as Mother’s Day approaches, I feel the dread of it
bearing down like a dark cloud.
The good thing is, I can use my writer's therapy. When I write about mothers in my Wildings stories, I find it’s
uplifting. I give them great husbands, loving children, and good health. I do
have my favorites. Lola Wilding is everything I ever wished for my mother. She
is healthy, witty, and knows things because she’s actually come from the future.
I love Lola’s sarcasm and nonchalance when she’s faced with a challenge. And I
love the way Harmonica Joe loves her.
I give the Wildings plenty of
years to spend with their parents. Wilding Moms have a way of being involved and
show their love for their children, even when their children are adults.
Whenever I write about these moms, I get to celebrate my mother and what I
would have loved to have shared with her as I grew into my older years.
For those of you who are mothers or have living mothers, I
wish you a splendid Mother’s Day this Sunday. I hope you treasure your moms and
your children as much as you can in the time you have with them. Mothers are quiet champions.
Sarah
J. McNeal is a multi-published author of several
genres including time travel, paranormal, western and historical fiction. She
is a retired ER and Critical Care nurse who lives in North Carolina with her
four-legged children, Lily, the Golden Retriever and Liberty, the cat. Besides
her devotion to writing, she also has a great love of music and plays several
instruments including violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. Her books and
short stories may be found at Prairie Rose Publications and its imprints Painted
Pony Books, and Fire Star Press. Some of her fantasy and paranormal books may
also be found at Publishing by Rebecca Vickery and Victory Tales
Press. She welcomes you to her website and social media:
