Mother's Day

The woman holds an uncanny physical resemblance to my mom, but her voice, words and vacant eyes give her away. I last talked with my mom four or was it five Mother's Day's ago? I knew my mom was leaving and this shambling charlatan was moving in, so I took Mom to lunch, just the two of us.

Even during the meal, Mom's mind was wandering in another land, called back by the need to move food or respond to the familiar face across the table. My familiarity won out for several minutes near the end of our time together and Mom's mind rejoined her body. The eyes lit with the old flame and the voice carried the old authority.

That voice had cut through so many minutes of my existence. She woke me with it every school day for all my public education career. With a snap of tone, she could capture my attention. Her intelligent words and ideas helped me through the angst of young adulthood at college, seminary and in my first church.

Oh we didn't agree. I love to argue and poke. Mom had been an easy target, low hanging fruit of emotion and intellect. And she didn't hit as hard as my brother.

All that has been hollowed out of her, scooped away from her existence by the steady unflinching hand of mental illness. All memory of Nancy Lee Keeler Ross has been meticulously removed down to the 3 year old level, just a shambling shell remains.

I can't help, but love the shell, it resembles her so much, resembles my Momma. I thank God He has granted me a long stretch to say my mental goodbyes. I thank God I can hug the shell and feel like I am hugging Mom. She smiles like Mom did, except for the confusion. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Dad is taking good care of your shell.

You may not be as close to your mom as you would wish. Don't wait for time to heal. I'm glad I enjoyed many close years with Mom and I hold no hard feelings to scrape at my memories.