I'm always late, Mum. But we know...

While reading other blogs, I couldn’t miss the many Mother’s Day missives and thanks. My bases were covered this year, though seemingly more by fortune than by preparation. Having said that, I should add that beyond telling my Mum I love her before ending a call or leaving after a visit (happy ending or sour), I do thank the woman verbally and in gifts as often as I can and when I think about it. Mother’s Day is everyday, for my purposes, I suppose. But all of the reading and what it brings to mind, seemed to bubble up today.

Now, I don’t often agree with my mother. And, I don’t always like my mother. As any businessman will tell you, it isn’t about that. Life is like business in some ways. With family and friends, financial dealings, police work I’m sure, and the military, it’s about getting things done. Our personal feelings and our wishes have to be set aside, at times, in order for a more perfect union. So it is with my relationship with my Mother.

She is the backbone of most of what I grew up knowing as a family. She made mistakes, married often, and moved many many times, with my brother and myself in tow. In a confused 60’s and 70’s world, she sought shelter in a cruel world and found none. Still, she managed to push, pull, help, and love two boys to manhood the best she could. We always had food, often of the good home-cooked variety (something I didn’t appreciate until a decade ago, but now cherish in memory but sadly will never be able to duplicate). We always had decent, if polyester at times (fads, ack), clothing and shoes. We had some toys, a few pets, and were always warm in the winter. Summers in Iowa back then were just what they were, nobody had AC (or remote controls). We also had fun, as a family, and parts of that family, tears too. But the best thing she gave us was the surety that we were loved and wanted. We were both adopted, hand-picked she said.

I know how imperfect mothers can be. I have seen many warts, blemishes, failures, and mistakes from three different mothers, in various situations. And I have hated them all at times, pushing them out of my life. And yet, when in my darkest moments, closer to death than most people get once, let alone three times, in more pain than my body could tolerate and keep breathing even perhaps completely sane, this woman is who I most wished most to have with me. I thought I was steel, and might be, but steel is nothing compared to a mother’s love. I changed. I came to understand what some will never know, and I hope I never forget.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom! I love you. Yea, I know this blog is late… but is it?