Sunday, January 25, 2015

My Memory of You

Several times over the past week, I have sit down to write my favorite memory of you. You can only imagine how many times I have backspaced and deleted this post. I chose to place my memory on here rather than the pieces of paper that I had prepared for everyone to write on and deposit in the memory jar that sit on your head table at the surprise 60th party we threw for you on Saturday. I chose to put it here, because just as I suspected you ended up reading the memories of your guest aloud in front of me. We laughed and we cried. Great memories. I choose to put my memory here because I cannot be in front of you when you read this.

My memory is not limited to just one. But two.

December 12. 2000
January 31, 2007

The two days I gave birth. First to B. Second to Miss K.

You were there. In the room both times. Both times with your oldest baby, me, as I gave birth and realized for the first time as I held my babies the love that only a mother can for her children. You understood the fear I felt when he wasn't allowed to cry immediately and the fear when she wouldn't cry. You understood both times when I cried from phone calls received not long after giving birth. One from a man who I longed to be a daddy and husband, the other from a screaming newborn baby girl. You fell in love with those babies as much as I did when you also first held them. What an awesome Nana you are.

My memories of those two days stand out above all other memories. Probably because you taught me everything I know about being a mother. About the sacrifices, the tears, the absolute joy of being called Moma. And hearing those words....

I love you Moma!!

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Kitchen Kelli said...

Such a precious post! I cried all the way through it so she couldn't have read it in front of me either - :) I find you to be a good-hearted upstanding woman who I am honored to call my friend............guess we both have your moma to thank for that.

ShaRhonda said...

Thanks for making me cry, Kelli. I love you my friend. I still can't read what I wrote without crying. She finally read it this morning after she got to school. And cried. The one thing I didn't put in this post was my thoughts on a memory jar, tell the memories now. Don't wait until our loved ones are too old or are gone. Get those memories written. We even sat around later and shared a few in front of our kids. That isn't done enough, or at least in my family. My brother does a lot from the pulpit, it surprises me what he remembers. And when you start telling the memories begin to flood.