Mother's Day Tribute to a Magical Mom.

About nine years ago, two months after Mother’s Day, I lost my Mom. In my last memory, lying next to her, I held her hand and she let go. She didn’t pass that night. In fact, I didn’t understand why she let go of my hand. However, for Mom even dying became a teachable moment. It seemed as if she knew what she was supposed to do at every stage of her illness, so we learned from it.

She knew she had to let go. Let go of her attachments to this world: her roles as a professional realtor, a mentor, and a dutiful friend. She knew she had to release her attachment to being a loving sister and mother of the five heirs to her wisdom, passion, and sense of humor. I had a hard time letting go of that fact. The feeling of her freeing her fingers from their interlace with mine rewound in my heart time and time again after she passed.

Months later, I had a dream that she came to my bedside and took my hand. It felt like there was a distinct sense that she was in a different place than me, but the energy of her love and mine intertwined again. Mom made a point to say things when she was still alive that made us believe she'd be around us after she died, like she said she'd be a Cardinal. I think the Cardinal is one of the most frequently seen birds aside from the Robin. She didn’t want us ever to feel alone. When Cardinals fly by me, or perch on my porch I pause a moment and think of her. The energy of her love swoops in with a full wingspan and wraps her warmth around my heart.  Happens every time.

One evening, my printer turned on (without anyone turning it on) and printed out a page with Mom’s name on it.  It was a legal document on my computer, but not one that had been in my printer queue or even one that had been pulled up or edited for over six months. It woke me up in a fright. I can’t bring much logic to this incident, except to say that the very next day someone broke into my house and took my television. Luckily, I wasn’t there.  But my printer’s mysterious 'wakeup call' the night before felt like a warning of some kind. It stuck with me. I took the lesson from the experience and reinforced the security of my home.

A year or so later, driving home from a meditation class, I thought to myself, ‘Mom, why haven’t you tried to talk to me. I’d listen. I miss you. I want to hear from you.' Not two minutes later, I stopped behind a big white truck. The height of the truck put its license plate in direct line with my eyes. I did a double take.  It said, “I LUV U”.  I looked down and the state on the plate said, “Montgomery” where my mother was born.  Now, I don’t know about you, but I appreciated the synchronicity of these two events. Needless to say, I like to think of it as Mom giving me a timely and wonderful, heartwarming response to my question.

Who knows what’s on the other side of life. I don’t. However, I will say, my Mom set things up for us before she left this world, so it feels like she’s still very much a part of our lives. So this Mother’s Day, I’d just like to celebrate what great mother’s do to keep us believing in the possibilities of life and anything that might be beyond it. I love you, Mom!  Happy Mother’s Day.