Glad to be your child

She probably doesn't remember this.  But something that I did just this week reminded me of the day.

First-born Rebecca was six years old.  We lived in Chattanooga and she had a friend whose name was Ed.

It was a cold, but sunny January afternoon.  Becca and Ed were playing in our backyard.  She knew the boundaries, but when I went to check on her - you guessed it - they had ventured a little farther to the iced-over puddles at the bottom of the hill.

I watched as they ran and slid on the little patches of ice. 

To say that I was not amused is just scratching the surface of my emotion.  I could make an excuse and say the reason I got so upset was that I had a newborn and a three-year-old as well as the independent Becca.

Later that night she sat by my side at a church service.   On a broad ruled tablet and with some crayons, she wrote something:

"Dear Mommy, I love you and I am glad to be your child".

Still makes me smile.

Fast forward more than 40 years.

I participated in a webinar that focused on how we as caregivers are handling not being able to see our loved ones.  I've said many times that this is one of my most difficult experiences.  Twice a week Facetime visits of about 15 minutes with my mother have replaced the three or four visits of a couple of hours.  When I am with her, I write on a whiteboard.  When we are trying to have a conversation she has to repeat again and again - "What's she saying?".

It's emotionally draining to say the least.

However, the facilitator of the webinar suggested that we do things to make us feel "closer" to our loved ones.  I've already been using the moisturizer that she had used for years.  I have a cup of tea in a china cup. A day or so ago I even had a Wendy's Frosty.

And I write her letters.  Just letters about life on the "outside".  I'm "isolated" but not as much as my mother is.

And here's what reminded me of Becca's note:

I love you, mother and I am glad to be your daughter.

That's the way I closed the letter.

This is Iva Louise Nesmith Huffingham's 73rd Mother's Day.  It surely will not be as special as some of those we have celebrated together.  This is my 49th Mother's Day.  It surely will be a bit different.

Life is just not the same/

But one thing remains - I love my mother and I am glad to be her daughter - and I'm pretty sure that my three bundles of joy would say the same.

May your life be filled with enough Sunshine 

to make you appreciate the Shadow