Sunday, May 10, 2020

Sunday, May 10, 2020


Tonight's picture was taken on Mother's Day of 2007. Mattie was five years old and we went out for Mother's Day brunch at one of Mattie's favorite restaurants. Peter snapped this photo of us and Mattie decided to illustrate his love for me by crossing his arms. To me it will always be a priceless photo. 











Quote of the day: Today's coronavirus update from Johns Hopkins. 

• number of people who were diagnosed with the virus: 1,329,225
• number of people who died from the virus: 79,525

Peter made me a Mother's Day card that highlighted many of the wonderful photos
I had with Mattie on this special day. This was Mother's Day 2007. 

This was Mother's Day 2006.

Peter captured Mattie's name for me, Una Moona!

My mother in law surprised me with a dozen roses. They certainly brighten up our home, especially in lock down. Normally, we have our deck garden planted by this time, but until things open up, our flower boxes will lay dormant. 

We walked around the National Mall today and came across this sighting by the reflecting pool alongside the Lincoln Memorial. A mother duck and her two ducklings. A sight Mattie always appreciated and now every time I see such a pairing, I remember Mattie saying..... 'they look just like us.'





On this Mother's day, I share a poem that my friend, Denise, gave me years ago. It is a column written by Erma Bombeck that has touched my heart each Mother's Day and most likely the hearts of many bereaved moms. As she says..... I can think of no mothers who deserve it more (appreciation and respect) than those who had to give a child back.

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Mothers Who Have Lost a Child - May 14, 1995 by Erma Bombeck

If you're looking for an answer this Mother's day on why God reclaimed your child, I don't know. I only know that thousands of mothers out there today desperately need an answer as to why they were permitted to go through the elation of carrying a child and then lose it to miscarriage, accident, violence, disease or drugs.

Motherhood isn't just a series of contractions, it's a state of mind. From the moment we know life is inside us, we feel a responsibility to protect and defend that human being. It's a promise we can't keep. We beat ourselves to death over that pledge. "If I hadn't worked through the eighth month." "If I had taken him to the doctor when he had a fever." "If I hadn't let him use the car that night." "If I hadn't been so naive. I'd have noticed he was on drugs."

The longer I live, the more convinced I become that surviving changes us. After the bitterness, the anger, the guilt, and the despair are tempered by time, we look at life differently.

While I was writing my book, I want to Grow Hair, I Want to Grow Up, I Want to Go to Boise, I talked with mothers who had lost a child to cancer. Every single one said death gave their lives new meaning and purpose. And who do you think prepared them for the rough, lonely road they had to travel? Their dying child. They pointed their mothers toward the future and told them to keep going. The children had already accepted what their mothers were fighting to reflect.

The children in the bombed-out nursery in Oklahoma City have touched more lives than they will ever know. Workers who had probably given their kids a mechanical pat on the head without thinking that morning are making calls home during the day to their children to say, "I love you."

This may seem like a strange Mother's Day column on a day when joy and life abound for the millions of mothers throughout the country. But it's also a day of appreciation and respect. I can think of no mothers who deserve it more than those who had to give a child back.

In the face of adversity, we are not permitted to ask, "why me?" You can ask, but you won't get an answer. Maybe you are the instrument who is left behind to perpetuate the life that was lost and appreciate the time you had with it.