While Dad was dispensing wisdom, dictates and stories, always reminding us of how important family is, it was Mom who was stitching our lives together, mending relationships, keeping track of everyone and putting all of the details of every family member into a life-size jigsaw puzzle so that we were inextricably bound together. She never missed a beat, never forgot a birthday and even saved spaces in her albums for, say, a birth announcement after the wedding announcement was put in. And as lives grew longer, I noticed she left a space here and there for an obituary.
Mom was our recorder, our chief of operations, the weaver of the family tapestry. Whereas I lived in dread of discovering a long-lost fourth cousin, she reveled in it. Family was everything to her, and keeping track of all of us and our likes and dislikes, our special days and worries, our children and our friends was her vocation. Forgot when John had his surgery? Call Mom. Wonder what Libby's planning to name the baby? Check with Mom. Want to know when Lois is coming back from Mexico? Mom will know.
Of course, many times what Dad called her "recitations" drove me crazy, since I can easily get overwhelmed with unnecessary details. I remember one time when she and I and Lois, I think, were trying to decide what kind of pizza to order, going back and forth while we considered our options, with Dad loudly refusing to eat any pizza. Things were getting tense. I asked Mom what kind she'd like, and she answered by declaring that "Martha's Tim" liked a certain kind of pizza . Now, what made this really strange to me was that I didn't have a clue who Martha's Tim was (a cousin's son, it turns out), and as far as I knew, he wasn't invited for pizza. So what did Martha's Tim have to do with this? Mom was nonplussed. Tim's pizza preference was one of the bits of family history. It mattered to her.
But this caring she had could be deeply touching too. If it was important to us, then it was important to her. So she nurtured the ties that bind. She kept track of her brood. Even just before she died at 94, two months ago, she asked Rita to make sure each of us got the individual Christmas cards she had picked out for us the day before she fell and broke her leg.
Dad may have been the family storyteller, but Mom was surely the fact-checker, and her abiding interest in all of our lives gave new meaning to keeping the home fires burning. The strength in our family has everything to do with all of those years Mom stitched us together, mended the weak spots and lovingly cared -- even for what kind of pizza Martha's Tim enjoyed.
Mom was our recorder, our chief of operations, the weaver of the family tapestry. Whereas I lived in dread of discovering a long-lost fourth cousin, she reveled in it. Family was everything to her, and keeping track of all of us and our likes and dislikes, our special days and worries, our children and our friends was her vocation. Forgot when John had his surgery? Call Mom. Wonder what Libby's planning to name the baby? Check with Mom. Want to know when Lois is coming back from Mexico? Mom will know.
Of course, many times what Dad called her "recitations" drove me crazy, since I can easily get overwhelmed with unnecessary details. I remember one time when she and I and Lois, I think, were trying to decide what kind of pizza to order, going back and forth while we considered our options, with Dad loudly refusing to eat any pizza. Things were getting tense. I asked Mom what kind she'd like, and she answered by declaring that "Martha's Tim" liked a certain kind of pizza . Now, what made this really strange to me was that I didn't have a clue who Martha's Tim was (a cousin's son, it turns out), and as far as I knew, he wasn't invited for pizza. So what did Martha's Tim have to do with this? Mom was nonplussed. Tim's pizza preference was one of the bits of family history. It mattered to her.
But this caring she had could be deeply touching too. If it was important to us, then it was important to her. So she nurtured the ties that bind. She kept track of her brood. Even just before she died at 94, two months ago, she asked Rita to make sure each of us got the individual Christmas cards she had picked out for us the day before she fell and broke her leg.
Dad may have been the family storyteller, but Mom was surely the fact-checker, and her abiding interest in all of our lives gave new meaning to keeping the home fires burning. The strength in our family has everything to do with all of those years Mom stitched us together, mended the weak spots and lovingly cared -- even for what kind of pizza Martha's Tim enjoyed.
2 comments:
Oh, AMEN! And thank you! Who will accept that torch now??? :(
This is a keeper! It goes right to my heart :)
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