A Tribute to My Mother
Mother’s Day
May 14, 2006
I’ve heard many times that your parents make you who you become. I used to think this was a cop out for all the things in your life that weren’t exactly as you would have them be; it’s easier to blame someone else for your failings instead of yourself, right?
I turned 40 in January and while this may not mean a lot to most people, it had a profound effect on me. It was the realization that I’m at a mile marker phase in my life. A time where you are considered to be fully an adult and begin to move into the slot that your parents once filled in the eyes of those younger than you. It’s a daunting position I find myself in. My two step-sons look at me the way I used to look at my Mom and Dad. I thought they knew everything and had the answer to any question I might throw their way. The knowledge that my parents must have felt the same fears that I feel now in knowing you DON’T have all the answers and in fact, at times, NO answers.
Several years ago I wrote my mother a poem and framed it for her Mother’s Day present. She cried when she read it and every year reminds me that she reads it and is proud of its sentiment and that I’m her daughter. Truly, I am the one who is blessed. I had thought about posting it here but decided at the last minute to share what I’m feeling instead.
Jimelle Entrekin was born October 8, 1929, to Matthew and Gladys Entrekin. She would be the eldest of four and the one that her family would come to view as their rock in times of need and trouble. Anyone that is around me longer than half a minute knows that I tend to have a potty mouth. She would be so disappointed if she knew my language was as bad as it is. Mom is 76 and I have never heard one curse word cross her lips. She is ever gracious and kind; a real southern woman. She has suffered many heartaches in life but to talk to her, you’d never know it. She finds the good in everyone and if there isn’t any visible, offers up a prayer in their name. I have said time and time again, that if anyone has a direct line to the man upstairs, it’s her. Her faith and belief in God are tremendous. If you’re having a bad day, she’s the lady you want to talk with. Instantly you feel her peace and calm and strength and by the time you hang up the phone, you realize things aren’t quite as bad as you thought.
Tonight she and I had a long conversation. Our weekly “date” is Monday nights after I’m home from working with my music partner. Given today, I called her a night early to make sure she received her card and things in the mail and to tell her again, how much I love and appreciate her. As usual, she spent more time telling me how cherished I am to her. How she admires my spirit and love for adventure; how my talents delight and amaze her and how if SHE is having a bad day, I’M the one she calls.
Today just happens to be the anniversary of my Dad’s passing in 1979. We spoke briefly about that night. She and I were home with him when it happened and after other family members arrived and finally convinced Mother to go to bed, I crawled in with her. I remember her taking my hand and in the early morning hours she told me how scared she was and how our lives would never be the same again. I was scared too and no, our lives were never the same again, but they did eventually become something that was okay, even good.
For a few years after his death, it was just the two of us at home. She never left my side when I was diagnosed with cancer and spent 12 weeks in the hospital the first time. She refused to leave me and would only go home long enough to get clean clothes and come right back. Finally, my best friend Tina, talked her into going home over the weekend and leaving her with me. Even then, she called every few hours to make sure I was “okay”.
Today, as everyday, I miss my Dad but I rejoice in the fact that I still have my dear Mom who has always been my best friend. Your parents DO help mold the person you become. The direction and choices are yours to make, but the foundation is born from your experience of watching your parents and learning from them. They are not perfect and will make mistakes, but then again, so will you. You learn, as they did, to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and keep going.
I hope that as my sweet sons grow into manhood that they will look back on their life with me as times of joy and happiness. I hope they know how much I love them and how lucky I am to have been given the opportunity to be their step-mom. If I’m half as loving and kind and strong as my own Mom, I’ll be satisfied.
Mother’s Day
May 14, 2006
I’ve heard many times that your parents make you who you become. I used to think this was a cop out for all the things in your life that weren’t exactly as you would have them be; it’s easier to blame someone else for your failings instead of yourself, right?
I turned 40 in January and while this may not mean a lot to most people, it had a profound effect on me. It was the realization that I’m at a mile marker phase in my life. A time where you are considered to be fully an adult and begin to move into the slot that your parents once filled in the eyes of those younger than you. It’s a daunting position I find myself in. My two step-sons look at me the way I used to look at my Mom and Dad. I thought they knew everything and had the answer to any question I might throw their way. The knowledge that my parents must have felt the same fears that I feel now in knowing you DON’T have all the answers and in fact, at times, NO answers.
Several years ago I wrote my mother a poem and framed it for her Mother’s Day present. She cried when she read it and every year reminds me that she reads it and is proud of its sentiment and that I’m her daughter. Truly, I am the one who is blessed. I had thought about posting it here but decided at the last minute to share what I’m feeling instead.
Jimelle Entrekin was born October 8, 1929, to Matthew and Gladys Entrekin. She would be the eldest of four and the one that her family would come to view as their rock in times of need and trouble. Anyone that is around me longer than half a minute knows that I tend to have a potty mouth. She would be so disappointed if she knew my language was as bad as it is. Mom is 76 and I have never heard one curse word cross her lips. She is ever gracious and kind; a real southern woman. She has suffered many heartaches in life but to talk to her, you’d never know it. She finds the good in everyone and if there isn’t any visible, offers up a prayer in their name. I have said time and time again, that if anyone has a direct line to the man upstairs, it’s her. Her faith and belief in God are tremendous. If you’re having a bad day, she’s the lady you want to talk with. Instantly you feel her peace and calm and strength and by the time you hang up the phone, you realize things aren’t quite as bad as you thought.
Tonight she and I had a long conversation. Our weekly “date” is Monday nights after I’m home from working with my music partner. Given today, I called her a night early to make sure she received her card and things in the mail and to tell her again, how much I love and appreciate her. As usual, she spent more time telling me how cherished I am to her. How she admires my spirit and love for adventure; how my talents delight and amaze her and how if SHE is having a bad day, I’M the one she calls.
Today just happens to be the anniversary of my Dad’s passing in 1979. We spoke briefly about that night. She and I were home with him when it happened and after other family members arrived and finally convinced Mother to go to bed, I crawled in with her. I remember her taking my hand and in the early morning hours she told me how scared she was and how our lives would never be the same again. I was scared too and no, our lives were never the same again, but they did eventually become something that was okay, even good.
For a few years after his death, it was just the two of us at home. She never left my side when I was diagnosed with cancer and spent 12 weeks in the hospital the first time. She refused to leave me and would only go home long enough to get clean clothes and come right back. Finally, my best friend Tina, talked her into going home over the weekend and leaving her with me. Even then, she called every few hours to make sure I was “okay”.
Today, as everyday, I miss my Dad but I rejoice in the fact that I still have my dear Mom who has always been my best friend. Your parents DO help mold the person you become. The direction and choices are yours to make, but the foundation is born from your experience of watching your parents and learning from them. They are not perfect and will make mistakes, but then again, so will you. You learn, as they did, to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and keep going.
I hope that as my sweet sons grow into manhood that they will look back on their life with me as times of joy and happiness. I hope they know how much I love them and how lucky I am to have been given the opportunity to be their step-mom. If I’m half as loving and kind and strong as my own Mom, I’ll be satisfied.
posted by Diva @ 8:13 PM
1 Comments:
You Mom IS a true southern lady and judging from what I see in you, she did a wonderful job in rasing her children. Just as you are having a positive influence on your boys as well.
Post a Comment
<< Home