One Hundred and Two

You were born 102 years ago.
 Elsie Vera Reid.
September 21, 1916
The Last Rose of Summer.
Panama Canal Zone.

Ga Ga
Big Stuff
 Tomato Face
Els 
The Little White Haired Lady
You had a lot of nick names...
but to me you were
 Mom
Mama 
Mother
in that order.

Mama, I've spent a lot of time thinking about you today.
How is it possible that I could miss you so much when you've been gone for eleven years?
Maybe because I had you for forty-eight.
That's a long time in our family.
I only had Daddy for twenty-two years.
 My brother for thirty-five.
 You outlived them both.

I see you.
In your station wagon.
At the bank.
At your desk at 608.
On the couch at 509.
On the lounge chair by the pool.
At the bar in the den.
On the floor when you heard Daddy had died.
By Bob's hospital bed as he lay dying.
Next to me when I was a little girl, stroking my arm.
Holding my children in the kitchen at 408.
Sitting in your car waiting to pick them up from school.

With each passing year I realize your strength.
I admire your courage.
I respect your honesty.
I see your point.
I'm sorry I never told you that, Mama.

Sure you were tough.
Fierce.
Protective.
Exacting.
Difficult.
True.

You were a survivor because you had to be.
And that DNA, thankfully, you passed on to me.

Do we ever really know our mothers?
I don't think so.
Mothers are unknowable.
 They always fall short in our eyes.
They don't understand us.
They don't know how to listen.
They don't know what to say .
They fail us.
 Inevitably in some way
they fail us.
And we are too selfish to understand that it doesn't matter.

So in turn
we hurt our mothers.
We reject
avoid
ignore
punish
blame.


We waist precious time being angry with our mothers and forget we won't always have them.

But mothers are
Resilient
Patient
Forgiving
Unconditional.

That is their true strength.

On this, your 102nd birthday,
Mom
Mama
Mother
I honor you.
I salute you.
I thank you.
I love you.
I miss you.
I remember you.

A bouquet of gratitude -
one hundred and two roses for Elsie Vera.
Mama.