Today is September 6. My mom would’ve turned 89 today. I miss my mom. I miss our Friday night phone calls. I miss her fried chicken. I miss her saying “Oh my Lord!” when she was surprised by something. I miss her hugs.

I also missed the opportunity to really get to know my mom. Instead of spending time talking about what was going on in my life – the issue du jour – I wished I would’ve asked her about her life. While I knew some things about her, I never asked those really deep questions that would’ve given me a glimpse into her spirit. In my naive eyes, she was just a mom; a one-dimensional being.

There are many things I wonder about my mother now that both I and my kids are getting older. I see glimpses of my future life when the full-time hands-on parenting chapter comes to a close. I wonder if my mom felt the same way.

I wonder if my mom wanted to be a stay-at-home mom to six children. (Yes. Six.) When I asked her if she really wanted a big family, she would respond with “I love my kids.” I knew she loved me, but did she ever imagine a different life? When, after having two children,  I asked her how she did it with six, she simply said “You do the best you can.”

I wonder if my mom wanted to leave her hometown in South Carolina to move up north or did the charms of a traveling musician sway her? Given their short courtship, perhaps she saw this as a way out of what would’ve been a very ‘narrow’ life. She traveled with my father all over the country and did some pretty cool things. These opportunities would not have been available to her had she stayed in that small town.

I wonder if after four children in a row my mom thought she was done changing diapers, washing out bottles and midnight feedings.

I wonder if when child number five (me) came along after a seven year stretch, she thought about how she would cope with five children at varying stages with a multitude of time demands.

I wonder if at the age of 44, when child number six came along after another seven year stretch, she wondered how she’d even be able to get through the day.

I wonder if she thought about where her life went after her children were grown. Did she do all the things she dreamt of doing as a young girl planning her life?

I wonder if she was really happy or if she just lived her life day by day.

I wonder if she ever locked herself in the bathroom and cried her eyes out from the stress of raising six children, losing her mother and father, being away from her family, not fulfilling her dreams of traveling the country, or other missed opportunities.

I wonder if she looked back on her life, the lives of her grown children, and puzzled over how she made it through!

I wonder how she felt as she watched her youngest daughter struggle to regain her life after a horrible accident.

I wonder what her last thoughts were as the cancer quickly spread through her body and took her life.

I wonder…

As I write this newsletter on my mom’s birthday, I am filled with mixed emotions. Sadness over not being able to talk to her, happiness that she is in heaven with her loved ones, anger over missed opportunities with her, and comfort knowing that she is watching over me, my children, and her family.

My tribute to my mother is simple. Every day, I try to do the best I can and I work hard to overcome the childhood (and yes, some adulthood) insecurities I held so close, to take risks, pursue dreams and opportunities that my mom couldn’t. I talk to my kids all the time and share my life so they know me not just as their mom, but as a human being.

I do all of this so that my kids will never have to wonder about who their mother was and have regrets that they didn’t talk to me enough or get to know me. Even if there’s a missing piece here or there, at least I will know that my last thoughts won’t be, “I wonder if my kids really knew me.”

Happy birthday Mom. I hope you have a great day. I hope someone is making you a shrimp and lobster dinner, with butter-pecan ice cream for dessert. I hope someone is singing “Happy Birthday” to you. I hope someone brought you pink roses.

I hope you know how much you were and are loved. I hope you hear your kids talking about you and the many talents and skills you had that we didn’t appreciate enough.

I hope you know that your grandchildren remember you and your hugs. I hope you know that today when Kaitlyn saw a redbird on the wire, she said “Maybe that’s Grandma”.

I hope on the night you died, that you heard me say through my tears, “I love you Mom. See you this weekend” as the phone was held to your ear. I hope you know that I understand that you couldn’t wait.

I hope you know that your wisdom still influences my life. I hope you know that I carry the last words you said to me in my heart always.

“If you don’t value yourself, who will value you?”

I love you Mom. Thank you for all you did for me. Thanks for being my Mom then and now.

Jen’s Gem: Learn who your parents are while they are still alive.