Tea with My Mom

My Mom.Photo credit:  k8edid

My Mom.
Photo credit: k8edid

My mother is sitting at my dining room table with a book and a cup of tea.  I remember that she loved to read, and loved tea.  Although, in all honesty, I don’t remember ever seeing her actually sit down with a cup of tea. Or a book, for that matter.  Eight children and mounds of laundry, cooking, and housework were what I remember.  I remember slurping the dregs from her neglected, cold teacups and getting into trouble for “borrowing” her library books as a child.

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Reading.  Having tea.”  She set her book aside with a smile.  She didn’t look tired, or sick, or any of the ways I remember her looking.

“I see that, Mom.  But…you’re…” my voice cracked.

“Dead?” she asked softly. “Yes, I am.  Grab a cup, sit down and join me”.

“Mom,” I am truly stymied. “Really, I have to get ready for work.”

“Pfft.  They can wait.  They don’t deserve you.”

“You know my employers?” I asked incredulously.  I take a seat at the table.

“Oh, of course I know them.  Certainly you know I’ve been there with you more than a few times.”

I knew exactly the times she is talking about.  Wait.  Hold on –  is she really here talking?  To me?   My mom’s been gone for more than 30 years.  But she’s at my table this morning and wants to chat.  Who refuses their dead mother’s request for a visit?  Not this gal.  I have wanted this for years – no, dreamed of this for years.  Work can wait. Work will wait.

“You were there when I told my students about colon cancer, and colostomies and screening and how you died so young,” I said, remembering one of many times I felt her presence in my classroom.

“Yes, I was there,” she said, her voice soft like I remember.  “ You weren’t going to tell them.  About me, I mean.”

“No, I…I didn’t think I could talk about you without crying.  I felt you there, though, and I didn’t want even one of them to know what it was like to lose a parent so young.  I wanted them to nag their parents if they had to so they would get screened for cancer.”

“I’m glad you told them.  They love to hear about your stories, about being a nurse and nursing school and your kids and grandkids.  Your surgical scare, your broken ankles.  Your concussion.  They just love your stories. ”

“I know,” I smile.  “I try to always tell them the truth – about how hard it is to be a nurse sometimes.  How saving someone isn’t always the happy ending you think it will be.  How dying isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you.  How some patients fill your heart with joy, some with sadness, some with terror,” I laughed.

“They love you,” she smiled.

“Well…” I can’t think of anything to say.

“Did you ever want to have a job?  I mean besides being a wife and mother?” I ask her.  I am ashamed that I don’t already know the answer to this question.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter.  I was too busy with such a big family.  I wanted to get my high school diploma someday, and would have if…” her words trailed off.  “Women didn’t have careers so much then, you know. They were expected to stay home, care for their families.  I really did want to finish raising my kids though…” her voice trailed off again.  We are both silent.

“But look at you.  A college professor and all.  A nurse,” she changed the subject brightly – and I remember her doing just that, always deflecting the focus away from herself.

“Mom, “ I start slowly, not sure what words would come next.  I remember her playing along with Jeopardy on television – keeping score and for an uneducated woman, knowing so very, very much.  I remember seeing her standing at the stove, silent tears streaming down her face, stirring another pot in an endless stream of meals.  I remember sitting beside her on the couch when she told me, without looking at me, that I could leave if I didn’t feel safe but that she hoped, no – prayed, that I would stay.  I remember her pain and her terminal illness.  Her wasting away before our very eyes.  Her selfless, shy ways.  The wit and humor which never left her.  I remember her hands, so much like my own, with short puffy fingers and soft, flimsy fingernails.  I remember her hugs; her soft arms and cushiony warmth.  The way she smelled of Jergen’s cherry almond hand lotion.  And, sometimes, like onions.

“Mom,” I close my eyes and start again.  I want to ask her so many things – how she managed so much sickness and pain in her 42 years on earth.  How she managed abandonment, infidelity, cruelty, and disappointment without anger or bitterness.  How she forgave so easily.  How she asked so little for herself yet always had so much love to give.  How she could bear to leave her children.

I am suddenly ashamed.  Mortified by my whining and bitching and the definite lack of grace I have been exhibiting lately.  Ashamed of my pissy attitude and ungratefulness.  I am embarrassed by my incessant irritation with my first world problems; by my impatience and unhappiness.  Ashamed for not appreciating the health and bounty and opportunities placed before me each and every day.  For not appreciating that I am given, undeservedly, a new and beautiful chance at happiness each and every day.

“Mom,” I open my eyes to try again.  She is not there, of course – but she is not really gone, either.  I get up from the table and go to the kitchen to start my morning coffee.  I stop.  I reach into the cupboard and take down the tea instead.


Filed under General Mumblings, Uncategorized

319 responses to “Tea with My Mom

  1. #1 Son

    Goddamn it so much. I’m at work for craps sake. It’s hard to be witty and charming to my bar customers with my eyes welling up. Can I get a warning next time?

  2. This is wonderfully written and incredibly beautiful. 42 yrs old? Your Mom was taken too soon.

  3. Tar-Buns

    Haunting, evocative, and poignant. Too many tears at such a sad occasion. My turn yet to come.
    Well said, K8did! Michigan misses you!

    • Michigan will see me next week, TB. I have grandbabies to squeeze, kids to torment, and sisters to hug…I cannot wait.

      • And I am glad you and Peg have had your parents a good long time. I hope they are well.

        • Tar-Buns

          So far they are hanging in there. I know they miss going to Florida this year, especially my Dad, who lived there until about 14 years old.
          By the way, hope you are traveling earlier in the week. Another snowstorm is forecast to arrive during Tuesday into Wed. Safe travels and enjoy your family in MI! 🙂

  4. #2 son

    That was something else mom. I could read your writing all day, even the sad stuff. Love you and can’t wait to see you.

  5. This touched me so much, Katy. thank you. I bet there is a lot of your mom in you. What beautiful words and such vivid memories you’ve shared.

  6. Oh Katy. That visit from your Mom was a wonderful gift to you. Thank you for sharing it with us.

    They do go on, our parents. Our loved ones. Everything we touch lets us share them with other people. The lessons they taught us, the way they lived.

    And sadly, missing them goes on, too. Always. Until it is our turn to be missed.

  7. There’s nothing like a talk with your Mom. Beautiful!

  8. Sigh. I love tea time with you and your mom.

  9. This is the most beautiful piece! I am in Wisconsin and just read this to my parents. They loved it too! I vote FP!

  10. Beautiful stuff. Those of us whose Moms are still around need to take a moment to savor them and maybe some tea.

  11. That was beautiful, Katie. I had dreams about conversations like that after my mom died.

  12. Thank you so much for sharing this, reminding us of grace and love. I suspect you have a great deal of your Mother in you, not just the dreams but her grace.

  13. This was beautiful. My Mom is still with me, but HER Mother died when my Mom was 17… on St. Valentine’s Day. My Mom tells me that I have so many mannerisms of her Mom that she gets a kick out of it; my great aunt has also commented that I’m very much like her sister.

    I can only imagine what it’s like to lose a beloved parent so young and you’ve written a wonderful story here.

    • Oh, your mom was so young to lose her mother. I was 25 when mom died and she still had 3 boys at home (youngest was 7) when she passed away.
      I posted a picture on Facebook recently of my grandmother at about age 16 or so, and one of me at about the same age. Even our hairstyles were similar…and we looked so much alike.
      Thanks for coming by and visiting…

  14. Wow — just wonderful. Beautiful.

    “How she forgave so easily” — that’s going to stay with me a while. A great while, I hope.

  15. Oh Katy, this was lovely and sweet and so moving. Thank you for sharing your mom with the rest of us. I know she’s with you everyday, proud of the fine woman you’ve become.

  16. whiteladyinthehood

    Simply beautiful….

  17. so sweet k8edid. this is so moving…something about parents..they never leave, come what may…surely your mum must find peace everytime she overlooks at you…thanks for sharing and congratulations!!

  18. Beautiful written! Loved reading it! Say hello to your mum the next time, from Holland!

  19. Beautiful! I lost my father last month to Parkinson’s. I was sole caregiver for the last six years of his life and I miss him terribly. Wonderful post.

  20. Arya Ingvorsen

    Thank you so much for sharing this. So moving and written so beautifully. I am so glad that you and your Mum had time together.

  21. Roshni

    It was touching in a way I can’t explain…I felt this sudden surge of love for my mom. Thank you for this post, loved it. And congratulations on being Freshly Pressed! 🙂

  22. kimbrlynn

    So eloquently written. Thank you for sharing this. 🙂

  23. Really, really beautiful. I’ve often imagined conversations with my mom, too. 🙂 So sweet of you to share yours.

  24. Such a moving post. And the comments from your sons as well. Congrats on Freshly Pressed. When a post makes you reach for a tissue, you know it’s well-deserved!

  25. Wow. Like most of those who commented before me, I’m in tears. I lost my Mom when she (and I) were too young to go through that. I still miss her everyday. She was an amazing woman and my example in so many areas of life. Thanks for sharing from your heart.

  26. I love this, your writing lovely! 🙂

    feel free to take a look at my blog!

    feel free to follow !!!

  27. Beautiful. I wish …………….

  28. This is so beautiful and touching. Thanks for sharing. Clearly your mother was an incredible woman!

  29. This is gorgeous….had me a little teary eyed though *sniff* x

  30. What a charming and evocative piece. I lost my mum over 20 years ago; a lot of the themes you mention in your article echo some of my own feelings. Sometimes I think I can see her out of the corner of my eye… I found your conversation with your mom “over a cuppa” to be absolutely delightful. Thank you for sharing.

    • Thanks stopping in. I often “feel” my mom’s presence, and she has been in my dreams a lot lately. I’d so love to sit down with her, for real, and have a chat.

  31. Reblogged this on Lindsay McLoughlin and commented:
    This charming, evocative piece requires no introduction. My thanks go to k8edid for writing such a delightful post. Having lost my own mum over 20 years ago, I found her account very touching.

  32. Incredibly beautiful. I shed more than a few tears as I was reading… I’m so sorry for your loss — your mom sounds like an amazing woman and I’m sure she is so proud of you.

  33. You will always have her in your memories,sheenmeem.

  34. This makes me want to go home, visit my Mum and ask her all of those questions i’ve been meaning to ask. Beautiful writing, thank you.

  35. Imagine the great surprise the Freshly Pressed folks get when they click on you looking for an inspirational post and get humor, wisdom and chocolate lava cake recipes too!

    Well deserved congrats, from all of us who loved your blog even before today!

  36. It is amazing how much our strong-willed, grace-filled mothers are with us in our times of need – and fill our thoughts and guide our actions. This was a beautiful story about your mother (congrats on being Freshly Pressed) – and having lost my mother to multiple sclerosis years ago – I find that I see her everywhere – in my children’s smiles and laughter and now in my granddaughter’s stubbornness about doing the right thing. She never met her GiGi (Grandma Gracie) but knows all about her and seems to have a special connection with her. I find that when I write about growing up with my Amazing Grace, I am connected to her even more. Thanks for reminding me about all the good things she did for me and still does for me every day. From one KatyDid to another!

  37. Thank you for sharing this. It brought tears to my eyes. Beautiful.

    • They should put warnings on the tear-jerkers, don’t you think? I am hopeful that everyone who reads it and has tears in the their eyes can see that through my writing I am just a little sad, but am reminded of my great blessings – which include having had a good mom.

  38. Tears in my eyes as I imagine the conversation I’d love to have with my mom. Thanks for the memory.

  39. This is really beautiful and sweet post, and a great story. Thank you for sharing it. It was a good reminder for us all.

  40. What a good blog and so to the heart. It really brings back memories of my Mom and Dad. I lost my Dad at 15 and my Mom at 27. This just makes you stop and think that they are with you everyday.

  41. Wow, K8edid! I hope my children respect and love me the way you love your mom. Great job and congrats on being Freshly Pressed!

  42. My mother passed away four years ago. I miss her voice most of all. Thank you for sharing the love of your mother. We were both blessed!

  43. Thanks for this. I recently lost my Dad and this grabbed my heart. Very haunting.

  44. Beautiful post! Thank you for sharing your mom. . .Take care.

  45. This was so sweet and so sad. Your mother must have been a wonderful and strong woman, and it sounds like you still miss her.

    Mine was 46 when she died of cancer, so I really understood everything you said here. Thank you for sharing.

  46. “Nothing is worth more than this day” – just a thought that helps me to remember to be grateful every day! (=

    • So true. I shall try to remember that. I know my mom would have loved to have gotten a lot more days…

      • true, but then it’s not the number of days but the quality of the moments that made them up right? no one knows how many more years we’ll be living – I could have a stroke for all I know any second. But instead of being afraid, I think we can make choices to seize and appreciate every minute we do have =) NOW is the most important because I’ll never get it back. you write really well btw! pleasure to read!

  47. Beautiful post…inspiring and beautiful down to the heart, so touching.

  48. Inspiring, heart-breaking, beautiful, loving, remorseful – as we all are. Thank you.

  49. h0neyp0t

    Reblogged this on Bare Beauty and commented:
    beautiful ❤

  50. This is seriously touching. Makes me appreciate my mom much more than I show. Thank you

  51. Thank you for writing this. I can’t tell you how touching that was for me- I’m welling up here! Makes me appreciate my mom and the time we have together even more. Beautiful!

  52. Read this the day after the third anniversary of my own Mum’s death. Earleir than any of us hoped, but before her life became too difficult.. She called me Katy Did…..this story touched me deeply. Thank You.

    • I am sorry for your loss. This piece resonated with lots of folks, those who have lost their moms, especially, but those who are reminded to spend a few moments to show their love and appreciation before it is too late. Thanks for reading, Katy Did.

  53. makes me hope i somehow manage peace w/ my mom before one of us got to go- all the things we never said right? thanks.

    • I hope you can manage, at the very least, some peace with your mother. I was lucky – everyone loved my mom…but I can appreciate that some relationships are more difficult. Some that I have known who had contentious relationships with their mothers still miss them when they are gone and some regret not getting to a place where they could at least be civil…it is not too late.

  54. Keep drinking the Tea! Beautiful. ~ Rae

  55. mo

    Like everyone else, this touched me.I lost my mom two years ago and this is a scene that I have imagined in my own mind. Just to sit and talk. But there would never be enough time would there? If you do not object, I would love to write a post using your idea as a tribute to my Mom.She would be 90 on Feb 28.

    • Oh, of course use this idea for your post! I am sorry for your loss, I have often wished for just one more talk. I’ve dreamed a lot about my mom lately – as someone commented above – maybe she “knows” I need her presence. I shall keep my eyes open for your post.

  56. Truly fascinating!!! Having moist eyes and a heavy heart now!!!

  57. Very touching, very gently written portrait of someone who must have been a very strong, smart woman. 8 kids! That must have taken a lot of work, balancing and planning.In today’s world it is really worth reflecting on how her generation did so much with so little but courage and simple, down to earth determination.

    • I know it is easy for me to get wrapped up in modern day problems. “…courage and simple, down to earth determination…” is exactly how my mom approached a lot of things, as did many in her generation and those before her.

  58. This is a beautiful post and truly worthy of being freshly pressed. Here’s something that, judging from the response you’ve had, obviously applies to you! “A nurse heals sometimes, relieves often, but comforts always.”

    • Thanks, hillarysangel. I have heard that saying before. Sometimes nurses forget to heal, relieve and comfort their own souls, though and maybe that is what my mom was trying to tell me by “visiting”. I often don’t remember my dreams – but somehow the ones with my mom stay with me.

  59. really a nice conversation. love this. i bet she’s really a great mom. like mine :).
    “Mom,” I open my eyes to try again. She is not there, of course – but she is not really gone, either. —beautiful quote.
    exactly what i am feeling about my mom. she’s there too, at heaven.

  60. just browsing the blog entries as I only joined within the last hour. I read your poignant blog about tea with your mother and it made me feel so sad. I did not get on with my mother through no fault of my own, and I felt depressed by this after reading your blog. I am hoping to put my biography onto my blog pages, and get rid of some of the anger that sometimes consumes me. I have not had it published but have now chosen to try and get it into the public domain so that it may help to ease the pain that others may feel when going through any of the traumatic experiences that I encountered. I hope that I can evoke a memory as clearly as you have.
    kind regards

    • I am sorry that this post saddened you. I think for those who have lost their moms, and are fondly remembering – this post resonated. For those with more problematic relationships, sadness prevails, I think. I hope that publishing your work will be therapeutic for you and that you can get past the anger.

  61. Thank-you for sharing. I read this just after finishing writing about my grandfather who died fifteen years ago today. It was beautifuly written and I am sorry that you lost your mum when she was so young. It sounds like she would be proud of you.

  62. That was beautiful. *wells up*

  63. Really beautiful – I was right there at the table. I cannot think of a better way to honor our mothers than to allow their stories to give us greater perspective. Thank you for sharing.

  64. I haven’t even read through half of this yet but my eyes are already filled with tears.
    You are a very strong woman. I’m so sorry your mother was taken from you, especially while you were both so young.

  65. Pingback: Tea with My Mom | kbsmahon

  66. Wow. It’s been a while since I popped in (so sorry about that) and I drop by to find you having a huge party!! 😉

    This is a truly lovely and loving post and deserves the FB accolades. Well done, and congrats!

    • Thanks, Misty…It’s okay – there are so many great blogs to visit, I am lucky if I can sort of keep up. Although it looks like a party, everyone keeps crying!!! Was it something I said?

  67. Wow this is such a powerful story. Thank you for sharing it with me 🙂
    Your friend,

  68. I cried not only because of how it is beautifully written but also because I cannot help to wonder how you’ve done it. Forgive the cliche, but I don’t know how to breathe without my mother, contrary to what everyone thinks of my independence as I live in one state and she in another. I admire your strength. Keep writing about her, this is one of the many mediums of staying connected with her.

    • I have to tell you, sometimes I feel a little foolish writing about my mom as I am nearly 60 years old…but I guess we are always children when it comes to our mothers.

      • One is never to old to write about their mom, much less miss them. It’s an undying love from not just a mother to her daughter but from a daughter to her mother as well.

        Keep writing about her. I’d love to read it.

  69. Archita

    Wow….Loved reading it & it taught me a few things too..

  70. This is beautiful, so sad but beautiful T the same time.

  71. Thank you! A beautiful piece. I’m blessed to still have my Mum and she’s sitting out in the other room just now… you’ve inspired me to go and have a cup of tea with her and realize with gratitude the gift that time with her truly is. You are a person whom I’ve never met and this little reminder of the value of our loved ones is also a gift, so really – thank you.

  72. Truly beautiful. Thank you for this wonderful window into something greater than the tangible world. Truly truly wonderful.

  73. So beautiful… felt this one all the way home 🙂

  74. Hello there. It is wonderful to meet you through your words here about your mother and you. I used to have tea parties all the time with my mother Ramona Lea who is 81 years old with Alzheimer’s disease and lives with my sister temporarily in Moreno Valley, CA, about an hour from me.
    I miss the special dinners we had together and the many things we used to do together and will savor them like a cup of tea in my memory forever.
    I welcome you to not only join Totally Inspired Mind but add any of your very touching words any time.

    Paulette Le Pore Motzko

    • Your mom is still with you, yet with the Alzheimer’s disease, I am sure it feels like she is slipping away. They call it “the long goodbye”. I will pop over and check out your website.

  75. Reblogged this on Totally Inspired Mind and commented:
    It is wonderful to meet k8edid through her words here about her mother and her relationship with her. I used to have tea parties all the time with my mother Ramona Lea who is 81 years old with Alzheimer’s disease and lives with my sister temporarily in Moreno Valley, CA, about an hour from me. In a month’s time the house that my parent’s had together will be sold, and it is a sad thing for many reasons.
    I miss the special dinners mom and I had together and the many things we used to do together and will savor them like a cup of tea in my memory forever.
    I welcome you to not only join Totally Inspired Mind but add any of your very touching words any time.

    Paulette Le Pore Motzko

  76. Reblogged this on ester1ren3 and commented:

  77. I sometimes spend my after-work time, talking with my dad too (he passed away 8.years ago, after struggling for 2 years with stroke). I though I’m crazy (or something).. but reading this post, bring Life back to me.

    Thank you for sharing such a beautiful story, & to remind me to hug my mom tonight.


  78. Oh good heavens! Thank you so much. What would I say if my dad came to visit. I bet he would want us to drink whisky and smoke cigars and challenge me to drop my stringent self restraint. I love this and I love your writing! Thanks so much x

  79. Wonderfully written and wish I had met your mum…

  80. Absolutely beautiful. Brought a tear to my eye, probably because my mum is my best friend. We’re currently in different countries and I miss her hugely. I’m very lucky to still have my idol in my life, and I’m sorry you lost your’s so young.x

    • This post resonated with so many – both those who have lost a loved one, and those who are reminded to show their love while they still can. While I never expected that I would outlive my mother, I never expected I would spend most of my life without her…

  81. “I remember her hands, so much like my own, with short puffy fingers and soft, flimsy fingernails.” I remember my mothers’ hands so perfectly, the way they felt, looked and smelled. The memory comforts me.
    Thank you for sharing.

    • Thanks, Tracy. I cannot smell Jergens hand lotion without thinking of my mother.

      Your piece was lovely – simply lovely. And very deserving of the FP. Thanks for coming over here.

  82. Your mum is the best friend you will ever have.

  83. I really dont know what to say, that made me think of mine.
    What a good post ! I am new in that blog thing and you are the first person i comment ! This post is amazingggggg

  84. Just lovely. Going back to the top to read it again.

  85. What a wonderful tribute you to your Mom, and what a good job she did – she sent you forth in the world, making her proud for sure!

  86. :’) Love this, thank you.

  87. What an touching, inspirational post. You write beautifully about your mother’s memory. Thank you for sharing.

  88. Must say that you are super/..
    well written, got goose bums while reading

  89. i too write blogs..
    ( sudarshan7nair.wordpress.com)
    pls read nd leave ur beloved comments…

  90. Demetrius

    This is really touching!! I was in the middle of the report when I looked up and saw the latest post on my laptop on wordpress!! I was distracted, but its worth it!! GREAT BLOG BTW!

  91. Demetrius

    Reblogged this on The Invisible Blog and commented:
    This is a post from another blogger! It is interesting, touching!! Do enjoy it!

  92. OyiaBrown

    Reblogged this on Oyia Brown.

  93. Bittersweet and touching … I’m switching to tea today in your honor — and your mom’s.

  94. Congratulations on being Freshly Pressed! You are a beautiful writer. I lost my mom five years ago. I still miss her every day. She was a tea drinker, too. 🙂

    • Thanks – I had pretty much given up on the Freshly Pressed thing…and never imagined a post so personal and close to my heart would get much attention. Who knew?

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  96. I lost my mum around ten years ago. This is simply wow. So beautifully written. Had to read twice, tears and all.

  97. Louis Cobb

    very nice article. 🙂

  98. Cory's Creations

    I just loved this. Thanks for posting. It was beautiful.

  99. hermittyme

    Thank you for writing this. I enjoyed reading it and thinking about it afterwards. You sound like you might have (or think you might have) quite a different character to your mother, but I’m sure she’s very proud of you as a person. My mum’s going through…not a difficult time exactly, but not an easy time either, as her mother’s health is sort of slowly fading away – due to old age and related sicknesses. She’ll probably pass soon, it’s the reality. At the moment she has frequent dialysis and also can’t eat much of what she wants. It’s not easy to hear that sort of thing, knowing a harmless old lady in your family is getting needles and things stuck into her, blood drawn out every week, and is quite literally starving to death too. I hope before she goes her happy moments in life shine above and beyond the hard ones.

    • I am glad you enjoyed reading this…and sorry that your grandmother is ill. Seeing the end coming is never easy and I hope your Mum finds the strength she needs to get through it.

  100. I remember the old days with my mom. We also both love drinking tea because apparently, it’s very relaxing and reduces stress. This is very touching and inspiring post. Mother’s love is truly a blessing. BTW. Congratulation for getting in FP!

  101. I think it would suffice to say that your words moved me to tears. What a wonderful post you wrote.

  102. –Katy,
    My heart is overflowing with your words, your mother’s words, encouragement, hope, love, & saddness all at the same time.
    My bones are soaking in your dream—that is not really a dream. Is it?
    …because your mother is there, here, everywhere with you. Always. Forever.
    This is your best work. Please send in for publication.
    I Love love love this post SOOOO much. All humanity will relate and identify with this. Xxx

    • I don’t know about all humanity, but it seems to have resonated with a lot of people. I know my mom is all about – much as your beloved Kay. Thanks for coming by, Kim. I do appreciate it.

  103. Emotionally stirring, expertly written and completely captivating. Thank you x

  104. R.J

    Hey… I was nominated for this blogger award and it required me to nominate 11 other people, taking time out and reading other blogs just so i could nominate, i came across your’s…. I must say, it’s really lovely post 🙂 … touching & deep!! Looking forward to read more such posts from you :)… however for now.. you’re nominated for Liebester Award too 🙂


    • I am glad you liked the post. I am grateful for the nomination, but I gave up on the awards a long time ago. They seem to be a sort of chain-letter affair, and if I wouldn’t do it in person, by mail, or telephone – I don’t do it online, either. But thanks.

      • R.J

        Haha… ya i know… but then when i think of it, it at least made me read a number of other blogs, which I never would’ve … and it got me around getting insight to life from a lot of ppl around the globe… so i guess this nomination did me a favor 😀

  105. This is brilliant, I lost my mum when I was 15, and often wonder now I am 50, what she would say to me if she came back. What advice, did she go through the same things as I do. Thanks for writing this, it made me cry and happy at the same time.x

    • Thanks – while I understand this is a sad post, I am glad that people could see the hope and love in it, as well. You were so young when you lost your mum – I am sorry for that loss at such a tender age. I am sure she would be thrilled at the way you have turned out.

  106. jodilstone

    I lost my Mom 12 years ago this year. Would love to have a conversation with my Mom at the dining room table! Well written…:)

    • I don’t know why, but I keep dreaming about my mother (I am hoping she isn’t coming to fetch me!!). I am sorry for your loss, as well. If my mom did show up at the dining room table, I am so sure I would be crying and hugging her so hard there wouldn’t be any talking.

      • jodilstone

        I don’t dream about my mom ALL the time, but I do have dreams about her. Maybe once a month or every other month. I just assume she’s coming to visit me, because it’s easier to visit in my dreams than anywhere else!

  107. Continue to enjoy those talks with your mom! I see you’re 1 of 8 children and so am I. We don’t see that very often. Loved your story!

    • Hey – thanks for reading. It is rare to see someone from such a large family. People would ask if my family was Catholic because we had so many children, and I would just say that my parents were bored…

  108. Your message is so beautiful and your mom seemed so much like mine. Thank you for sharing!

  109. You are a brilliant writer and now my face is wet. Thank you for sharing your story…it was perfection.

    • Perfection, huh? I was aiming for pretty darned good. This one was pretty easy to write in that it flowed out, but draining and emotional to produce.

  110. Ginger Stevens

    Loved reading this. Part of my blog is things I am writing for my grandsons. I may have to write one about my mother.. I know she is with me, as well as other relatives… a smell, or a flash of memory that will come out of the blue. I lost my mother 20 years ago, and on my next birthday I will be the same age as she was when she passed.. Loosing your mother is hard, no matter what the circumstances. You loose part of yourself and one of the people who knew all of your stories.

  111. Pingback: Tea with My Mom | Spic N Span

  112. What a wonderfully sad, happy tale. There are so many thing our mothers didn’t tell us, so many things they wished for but could not do. Yet, they did the best they could with us. They live on through us day after day.

  113. Katy, this is so beautfiul! And it seems like I may have missed a Freshly Pressage-ed-ness-ocity?! Congratulations!!!

    I would love to be in your classroom, even for a day.

  114. Reblogged this on C is for Caty and commented:
    A simple, lovely read.

  115. Beautiful. I’m 18 and lost my dad three months ago suddenly. I’ve had so many dreams about him and miss him constantly. This was such a relevant and moving post. Thank you so much!

  116. winsomebella

    Moving, in the best possible way. You shine so bright 🙂

  117. I nominated you for a couple awards, I hope you can find time to pass them on. http://benzeknees.wordpress.com/2013/03/06/they-got-me-again/

    • I have been a little busy lately – and have taken a sabbatical on the awards (I have received the Versatile blogger award no less than 12 times). But I do appreciate the nod in my direction.

  118. Pingback: Mum’s the word | Ein Sprachblog

  119. The Farris Family

    I just shared this on my FB page. Beautiful writing–thank you for making my day a little brighter.

    • Thank you for sharing this. It seems it resonated with a lot of people. I’m glad I could brighten at least one day – any time that happens it is a good day, I think.

  120. Wow – You have truly touched my heart with this beautiful story. Thanks for sharing!

  121. kimmyg01

    That took courage and a measure of personal pain to share I’m sure.
    It was really beautiful and your mother would be so very proud of the woman you are.
    So sorry, you missed having her there with you then and now.
    Bless you for posting it.

    • I don’t know that it was painful to write, but it certainly was draining. I’ve barely written a word (other than the multitude of comments) since hitting publish. It seemed to have touched a lot of people, including my own children.

  122. Just beautiful. What an amazing moment. I love dreams where I can talk and see people that are no longer with me. It means they are 🙂 Thanks for writing this. I needed this today.

    • I think they never really leave us – if we look we see signs of them all around. I rarely remember my dreams – but the ones with my mom stay with me for some reason. Thanks for the kind words.

  123. Wow! That was beautiful. So many similarities to my wife’s situation. I read it to her. There were tears……. mostly mine.

    • I seem to have touched a great many people with this post – I hope that some of the tears are tears of happiness in remembering our loved ones.

  124. Wow. Makes me want to go home and hug my Mom. We lost her in 2003, but she had lived with us for two healing years before then.

  125. kellyrandom

    What a lovely, lovely story. Thank you for sharing it. It touched my heart and gave me something to “chew on”. Also, your writing style flows so naturally. It is very real, and not forced. Have a wonderful day.

  126. Absolutely beautiful post. This one is going to stick with me for a while, thank you so much for sharing it with all of us 🙂

  127. This really touched my heart. Your mother sounds like she was such a gentle person…I don’t have a tenth of her grace either…bless her. I am one of six children and my 87 year old mother is still with us. I feel like I need to focus more on the selfless qualities she had as we were growing up…

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