Mother

The hustle and bustle of getting all the little cousins ready to go to brunch on mother’s day was hushed by the matron who entered holding a faded piece of paper. The endearing way she gazed on the page held close with both hands made everyone in the room be still. Seizing the opportunity to escape the older of the wee ones scurried off to continue their fantasy play of pirates and fairies leaving the adults to their grown up musing. And musing we were. What could be so precious about this paper? We didn’t have to question long for the lady took her seat and began to explain.

“This poem was written by Mom,” she looked over at her sister and smiled. Her lips were pressed together showing fond remembrance mixed with bitter regret at the loss of their dear mother not so many years ago. How she wished that she could have her still by her side to read the words that she had personally penned so lovingly. Oh, to be able to hear her voice speak out the simple ode.

In her stead, my own mother began to read the poem that my grandmother wrote. There came a moment when she tried to have someone else finish reading, not able to go on because her eyes were blurred by tears. Recovering, she read the rest broken and shaky.

Upon finishing we dried our tears. Did anyone know when she had written this? How is it that you found it? Why had we never heard it before today? None of these questions found answers. Perhaps a bit sacrilegiously my aunt asked her sister to make a photocopy as I told them I was going to post it on my blog so that the whole family could see. My mother was now the mother of three mothers and I was saddened that only I had been present for the reading, alongside just one of my aunts. Wouldn’t all the other sons, daughters, aunts, uncles and cousins like to see it?

Being an egocentric pre-pubescent when my grandma passed away the memories that
I have of this special woman are few yet fond. While my youth did not afford me the wisdom to value our encounters my station now in life draws me to close my eyes and remember the details of the time I spent with the mother of my mother. After hearing this poem I can understand how selflessness was formed in my mom so that in my rearing I also received a giving and unselfish heart.

That plain piece of paper with a bunch of words on it has changed into a treasure. Then again, maybe it was not the paper that changed at all; rather it was I who changed. These words hung framed on the wall of the hall in our house during our formative years. I had never taken much notice of them. Now they will occupy a space on my own wall.

“Reflections on Motherhood”
a poem by
Laura Kavan

As a day honoring Mothers fast approaches,
I, as a mother, am thinking and thinking.
This whole celebration is quite out of order.
So little of the credit belongs to me
Who just happens to be a mother.

As I sit and write, great humility fills my soul.
To think that so much honor and praise
Can go with the most wonderful thing in the world
The honor of being a mother.

A feat I could never win alone
Yet on this day, the honor is mine.
But the trophy is so great, I guess I’ll just accept
Then try in this small way
To make you all, who I love so dear
Understand just how much you mean to me.
For without you, a mother I would never be.

Mother and Gram and Gramp or whatever you’re so fondly called
Your part in my fame is supreme
For without your love and teaching and help along the way
A wife and mother I could never be.

Les, ‘Daddy’, ‘Dear’, ‘Honey’ or whatever else I may call you
My love for you must tell you all the things in my heart
Because feelings so deep, words cannot express
But your contribution to my great day
Is ever increasing as each year passes
Til now, you must share this honor with me
For apart from you, this wonderful person, a mother I could never be.

And to you dear children –
Joyce, Jerry, Jill and Kristy
I’m so proud to be your mother
Tis honor enough to share the happiness you produce
Without a special date to honor someone so humble as your mother.

Now as my thoughts begin to ebb.
I must praise and honor you, dear God
For this wonderful way of life
And ask you to help me be, a Mother
As understanding as Thee.