Today, my mother celebrates eighty seven years of life. The eighth of this month is Mother’s Day here in the U.S. and on the nineteenth, my parents will celebrate sixty-six years of married life. But right now, I want to celebrate and acknowledge her birthday.
She has repeatedly told me all that she doesn’t want. She doesn’t want, or even like going out to eat. She doesn’t want a cake as she is trying to cut down on sweets (but I have a plan). She doesn’t want flowers as she can’t take care of them. Materially she has everything she needs and she is in process of trying to clear out excess stuff so she doesn’t need more brought in the house. With all of those don’ts, what does one actually do? How about acknowledge and say thank you.
My mother has always been my champion. Back when I was in school she took on teachers for various reasons on my behalf. The one she loves to share and tell time and again is the time she took on the teacher, the assistant principle and principle all at the same time. Over a failed grade over my handwriting. It was and is horrendous. Bad to the point at times I can’t even read what I wrote. She went to battle, and she won. The failing grade was changed to reflect the knowledge of assignment not how well or badly my handwriting was.
She always told us that if someone tried to get us into a situation that we knew was wrong, all we had to do was place it on her shoulders. “No, we can’t do that because mom said no”. I don’t recall ever using it, though I probably should have a time or two.
As a youth we were on vacation when we came across this suspension bridge. I was (and to a point still am) terrified of heights. Especially when what I’m trying to cross won’t be still. Dad took my brothers on across while mom walked behind me encouraging me forward. We did make it, but those men behind us who had been highly intoxicated at the beginning, were stone cold sober by the time we all stepped off the bridge.
She was there for me when I needed the money to get a bus ticket home when escaping a bad marriage. She was there for me, helping me rebuild my life.
When my son was born she was there for me at every turn and experience.
Today she is eighty-seven, she may not be as physically strong as she once was, but she is still a warrior. I watched her stand up to protect what is hers more than once. Taking on injustice and disrespect with the determination and tenacity of one who knows when they are right. All the while appreciative of those who show respect and compassion. She is polite, respectful, all the things one hopes to deal with, as long as it is shown to her. She buys candy for her great grandchildren. She offers hugs and lessons. She gives love always reminding us, telling us almost daily, family is everything. Not only telling us, but living those words.
Happy birthday mom. We do love you.
Words from The Dirt Road 
This is such a wonderful way to honor your parents, Rebecca! God bless your family. ā¤ļøšš»
What a precious mother you have had. I think about my mother at least once everyday, she has been gone for 4 years.