Mother’s Day is hard for me. I miss my mom and long for that one last conversation. I didn’t have a chance to tell her that I loved her and was proud of the amazing things she did as a mother- one last time. I didn’t get the chance to say that I admired her for her courage to always say exactly what was on her mind ior just say thank you for being my mom. Things just happened too quickly. We never know about the last time.
Sylvia Coleman , my mom, was the best.
My mother raised five children and always put us first. That’s the story of so many moms but Sylvia Coleman could have been a writer, an artist, a chef, a designer; she had so many talents that never truly manifested because she was raising a family. Times were hard during periods of our lives.
Here’s an example of my mother’s ingenuity, creativity, and love. My mother prepared a Thanksgiving dinner with no electricity, on camper’s stoves- you know the little stoves that you pour gas into that you use while you’re camping. Or with no sewing machine and no pattern made a dress for me for an event we had at school. Or becoming a Girl Scout leader because I was so shy, her way of trying to push me out the nest but still there in case I fell.
After my mother died, going through her things- I found that she had saved every story written about me, she kept a list of my accomplishments all neatly organized in a scrapbook. I never knew.
Yes, I miss my mother. Everyday.