I just got word that she's stopped eating. Her body is shutting down, and I don't think she'll live more than a few days.
About a week ago, when I found out that she had become bedridden, I felt like I ought to write an essay about what she means to me. I'm usually a pretty good (and fast) writer. But I have a history of being slow when it comes to writing personal essays that are important to me (as a college freshman I took nearly a month to write a personal essay about challenges I faced as a preteen—fortunately my teacher took pity on me and let me count it for two papers, and he thought it was really good when it was done).
This "essay" was no different. In the past week, I've been mentally organizing, writing, and rewriting the essay. I could never get an idea for the focus I wanted. There was too much to say. Then I got the idea for a blog. Instead of one essay, there will be a series of vignettes. None of the vignettes comes close to capturing the way I feel about Mom, but hopefully the set will will convey at least part of the wonder I feel to have been raised by this wonderful woman.
As far as I know, Mom never received any special recognitions or awards as an adult. She never had her picture in the paper or a magazine. She was never featured on the radio. She wasn't listed in Who's Who. But she raised five good children. She loved, honored, and respected my dad for nearly 60 years of marriage. She toiled in anonymity in the greatest work the world has to offer—helping children to become like heavenly and earthly parents.
And so, in this blog, I hope to bring to light some of the great things Mom has done for me.
I wish I had done this sooner, while she could still read and understand. But soon she will be free from the limitations of this mortal body, and I hope that she will somehow be able to know the things I write as they are read and understood by others.
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