If you know me well, you know I like to preface much of what I say. With that said, this blog post is more for me than it is for those reading it. However, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this; there are few things I appreciate more than the opportunity to talk about my mom. Below, you’ll find what I would have said five years ago at my mom’s memorial had I had the strength. May my words honor her.
My mom passed away on her 48th birthday. For some reason, I find this strangely
fitting. As much as her death devastated
me, I’ve never doubted that God took her exactly according to his time. My mom was the kind of lady whose life would come full circle. I have yet to meet anyone who appreciated
life the way my mom did. My pursuit to
be fully me, authentic in all I do, stems from her influence. She was so comfortable in her own skin, never
trying to be someone she wasn’t.
My mom was a woman of adventure. In her short life, she
trekked through the Amazon jungle, searched and found her birth parents,
started two successful companies (one of which was a private-i company) and
mothered four children. She even looked into joining the FBI, but she was too
old to apply:)
I am committed to honoring my mom with my dreams and
actions. My mom was the kind of lady who
would not only tell me I can be anything I want to be, she would help me
research how to become it. That’s why my
sister and I often joke about our over confidence in things (Angela saying she
knows she can become the United States president if desired. Me saying I can become an astronaut if I were
willing to move across the country).
When I was in first grade my mom went to New York City. Her excitement following the trip stuck with
me. I became obsessed with all things
New York; I even did my sixth grade state report on New York. My mom saw my
excitement and promised me that when I turned sixteen, she would take me there
for my birthday. Growing up, we didn’t have a lot of money. Our family
vacations consisted of driving four hours to visit Grandma and Grandpa in the
desert. Thus, I didn’t take her promise
lightly. And sure enough, the week I turned sixteen, my mom and I took my first
of many trips to New York City.
I remember an interesting conversation we had years later
regarding the trip. She asked me if I
ever doubted we would go to New York for my sixteenth birthday. I told her it never crossed my mind; I never
doubted it. She used this conversation
to illustrate the power of setting my mind to something, the power of creating
dreams and living to see them come true.
As my wedding approaches, I find myself missing her more and
more. I wish she were here to see me now, to be at my wedding, to see my new
home, to go shopping with me for a wedding dress. But I’m a better person
because of the trials and pain I’ve gone through. I’ve learned that there is
pain in this world, that life isn’t fair, and that my only hope, is the hope I
have in Jesus, the hope of believing I’ll see her again. I love you mom. Thank
you for the twenty wonderful years you gave me.
