We sat next to each other in church this morning. She proudly sang with her eyes closed, basking in the adoration of her children. I held her right hand tightly and sang in hushed tones. I, apparently, did not inherent her vocal ability…I sing slightly better than my father, who’s sounds like Frosted Flakes’ Tony the Tiger when he sings.

Four years ago to the date, I sat in my car with JD and cried tears of desperation. Long sorrowful wails of one who is losing someone dear. We were buying last minute Mother’s Day gifts—decorative hats and beanies to cover my mother’s chemotherapy balding—but I truly believed it was our last holiday with her. I feared being alone on days like today. Days when children reflect and articulate how thankful they are to the woman who scraped the burned edges of morning toast, kissed band-aid covered fingers, and hid gas money in their wallet when she thought they weren’t looking. I feared never being able to truly show my mother how much I needed her. So I cried long sorrowful wails of one who is losing someone dear.

Today we sat next to each other in church and sang together. I held her tightly and prayed she knew how much I needed—no, how much I need–her. Later, we spent a lazy afternoon with the family enjoying lunch on an outside patio. Every year we make it a point to go around the table and say what we appreciate most about our mother. I try to put to my emotions into words, but I fear I do a lousy job. For everything she’s done for me, I’m thankful. For the woman I am, I’m indebted. For the wife I’ve become, I’m appreciative. And for the child I always desire to be…well, I’m working on that one 😉

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

I love you to the moon and back.