A BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE

Forty-four years ago today at just about this time of day, noonish, I was vigorously walking around Vermillion, S.D., doctor's instructions, trying to advance the minor, beginning contractions of birth.  And it wasn't until much later that day that Jonel made her appearance at the Yankton hospital...and as all mothers know, it was and has been, a life changing experience.

 

Only a few days home, and we are resting well.  I can still feel this warm, sweet little girl on my chest.

 

 

 

The photo for family.





 

Jonel today, a mother of her own with daughters Elsa and Iris.  My daughter now knows the sweetness, pains, heartache, overwhelming love, worry, care and concern of motherhood.

 

No matter how old my daughter, I almost daily know the sweetness, pain, heartache, overwhelming love, worry, care and concern of being a mother.

 

 

 

 

 

Taken on Easter Sunday.

 

I cannot express in words how she has embellished my life.  I am so proud of this woman: strong and determined; a patient and loving parent; a solid, giving and loving partner and wife; a woman who not only holds the earth in high regard but follows through in all ways to respect it; a master of the written word; a compassionate and empathetic being who is generous in all

ways;  a lover of the outdoors;  and a deeply spiritual being. 

 

I love you, Jonel, and am thankful for your being.

 





ELSA, THE BIRTHDAY GIRL

Pool Party

 

 Elsa decided she wanted a 'Pool Party' for her 7th birthday, and she requested a Pool birthday cake....She loved it....especially the cookie people/heads which she kept trying to 'steal' unnoticed.

 

...lounging along....

 

 

 

...lots of children, lots of water, and no one except the adults noticed the overwhelming chlorine smell.

 

...three little beauties...

 

 

 

It is hard to believe that Elsa has turned seven already.  I know that time plays tricks, collapsing years into moments, but seven???  This little 'quick-as-a-minute' child, filled with love and wonder, gratitude and a good measure of silliness has reached seven in what seems only days to me. I am deeply grateful to have been so involved in those seven years and look forward with love for all of the years to come.



FOR MY MOTHER

It has been many years now since my mother's death.  I miss her daily...I think of her daily....I rue all that she has missed, too.

 





 

My mother holds Corky, one of our childhood dogs.  I'd have to guess, but I think she was in her 40's here.  She had already had ovarian cancer by this time.  I was too young to really know the depth of fear that accompanies cancer.  She spent time at Rosewell Hospital undergoing radiation.  I remember her coming home, I remember her 'browned' stomach.  She recovered, only to have cancer two more times in her life.  She was a strong role model for me.



This is one of the later photos of her, still a lovely woman.

And here a favorite.  She came to visit one Easter, maybe 15 years ago.  How I see myself in my mother.

 

 

I remember how special I felt one day, I think I was about seven or eight, when she and I, no siblings, walked hand in hand to town.  It was about a mile and a half walk, and I had my mother just to myself.  I remember how sweet it felt, her hand and mine together.  We lived with my grandmother, an aunt, and I have two sisters and a brother...we were a busy household, so a stroll with my mother was very special.

Despite being of advanced age myself, I miss a mother in my life, I miss my mother.  There is an emptiness in me, an ache that never goes away.  It subsides, but is never gone.  It rears up boldly when, for example, I want to call her and tell her something of Iris and Elsa.  I wish she had known them, I wish they had known her. 

Today when I look in the mirror, I see my mother.  I have grown to look so much like her, it seems uncanny. 

My mother taught me so much, inspired so much in me, gave me so much, and expected much as well.  I took dance lessons from the age of six through twelve.  My mother sewed all of my dance costumes on our old Singer treadle machine.  I recall my dance teacher always pointing out the costumes my mother made as being so well done.

Although my father was the Artist at cooking, my mother was a wonderful cook.  I learned so much from her about day-long cooking, fresh ingredients, 'organic' before it was organic, and the simple love of feeding family.

I know my mother lives on in me, in my very flesh and blood and bones.  I feel her strongly at times, even as I feel the grandmothers of old surrounding me.  Although my mother died what seems a long time ago, she has really never left me alone.

  She

 

She fills my days unseen

     yet everywhere,

permeates my life with

     a love that caresses

and carries me forward,

     even as it reaches

as far back as my birth.

 

‘Mother’, you so far exceed the

     bounds of that word,

the entire lexicon fails

     to capture you…

and it is this, my life,

     my beating heart,

the flow of my blood,

     the strength of my bones,

that holds and honors you…

 

and even now, so long after

     your passing,

you fill me with your love.

3/22/15