rolling blue wave hits the shore, tumbling memories along the rocky
waterís edge. I pick
them up, one by one and clean them off.
Dripping - salty. . . I collect them all.
Some are older. They
are memories passed on to us. I
rinse them all until they become clearer.
I hold the oldest . . . itís fiery, yet sad.
I see the agony, Mom - your Dad lay there, badly burned, your
Mother lost forever that fateful day.
Just newly married, you took your younger siblings into your
arms; raised them, nurtured them.
fumble around and find other older memories.
Sifting through them, one pops out.
Its beautiful - a first child, Paulette Marie.
This is one of your golden moments of your then young life.
As I turn the memory, I get a better view . . . I see the pain.
Weeks after birth, pneumonia snatches that joy, tainting your
desire to bring another into the world.
We bury that one deep into the sand.
As I do, this one old memory slides down my palm, tickling.
I curiously hold it up against the deep blue sky.
Its not quite as old as the last . . . its from 10 years later
in your life. Again, I
see joy - constant joy. Itís
the birth of a boy, your boy, Onlysion John III.
I look down and see 5 more, nearly carbon copies of the first.
I see you - proud - its the births of your other 5 children.
As I roll the memories around, I see that you are alone; alone
with your children - you have nothing - must raise them . . . ALONE.
Shaking my head, I sigh, tears roll down - But, I take notice
of you. You are not sad.
Just determined. Your
strength makes me quiver!
scuttle through other memories. Thereís
a glowing red and green memory catching my eye.
Closer glance - its warm, happy - its memories of many
Christmases. I see you,
Mom, again with nothing - same nightgown, slippers . . . older . . .
smiling. Each Christmas
memory is filled with gifts, gifts for us - more than a kid could
dream of. And you . .
new wave hits and more memories splash at my feet.
They are clearer, newer. I
pick some up. Looking
into them, I notice there are smaller sparkling gems inside of each -
SHINING - they are your Grandchildren.
Each one of them you somehow made your favorite, each one you
made special . . . in some way. I
see you with each one. Sparkling!
You nurtured them all as your own.
Mom, you sparkle; though you had nothing of your own.
You give them everything.
Oh! And you are a
God to them! Your impact
on them is undeniable! As
usual, you give - sacrifice, for us, your kids. . . for your
grandkids . . . for others. It
makes me blue. I see you
have nothing of your own, yet you give and give in each and every
over, I pick up 6 very large memories, similar to each other.
They are shiny, strong - your kids, grown.
You look proud. You
polished the 6. Nurtured.
ALONE! The 6 are
proud. Proud of you, Mom.
You did it - ALONE!
memory is found. It looks
like an Angel. I look -
wonder - wonder if God gives Angel points for all the times you
suffered, sacrificed, so others could have more - so we could have
more. If he did, you
would have earned your wings many, many years ago.
I thank God for letting you stay with us for all these years,
even though you earned your place in His arms, long ago.
wave laps at my feet leaving one single memory.
I pick it up - gorgeous - ice blue like the sky on a cloudless
day. I stare into the
lovely blue and see a smile; yours.
I know Iím looking at a glimpse of the past and what is yet
to be. I smile back,
continuing to look deep into the blue, deep into your blue eyes.
I realize that I wonít see them for a long, long time.
I look into them long and hard . . . remembering . . .
remembering the beauty, the power - your life!
feel peace as I stare one last time into your eyes before the memory
fades. I know that Iíll
see them again, those eyes - someday - smiling - icy blue eyes, Angel
trudge to the shore as it starts to rain.
Droplets stream down from above, gently tapping me like
reminders . . . reminders of the past.
I look up and the droplets puddle in the corners of my eyes.
I smile, for behind every shower, I know the sun will shine,
clearing the skies for better days.
Every time I look up into that vivid icy blue sky, Iíll be
looking up to you, Mom. And
I know, Mom, that the next time that I truly look into your lovely
blue eyes, Iíll be with you once again . . . Iíll be with you, in
your arms - the arms of an Angel!
you, Mom, I love you. God
Bless you, always!