God bless all the mothers out there

Posted

If I didn’t remind you, I doubt that many of you would even remember. But, it was just a year ago that I wrote in this space, offering praise for the mothers in our community, and sharing with you memories of my mother.

Part of me contemplates whether or not it’s too soon to tell you more of my memories, but a more overpowering part of me is inclined to feel ashamed that stories of her legacy haven’t made it into more of my editorials in the past 52 weeks. And, it’s Mother’s Day on Sun., May 10, so indulge me.

So much of whatever is good about me, of what little I’ve accomplished in my almost 52 years, I owe to my parents and specifically to my mother, Donna Vance – who passed away suddenly on Oct. 22, 2004 at the age of 76.

I remember many, many times my father – Roy Vance – telling me, “son, don’t ever get old.’’ He would tell me that because of ailments, aches and pains that he was experiencing in later life. But, what I dislike most about losing the battle against father time is that so many of the people I hold most dear are no longer available for a phone call, a visit, a hug, a sage piece of advice or counsel.

As I sit to write some reflections on my mother’s life and what she meant to me, memories are darting back and forth through my brain at warp speed. I’m not proud of this, but some of the memories are when I failed my mother. I remember about five or six years ago telling my son, who is now 24, that when I was about 20 or 21 years old I went to my parents and apologized for all the times I had caused them heartache or stress. My son, ever his father’s kid, promptly quipped, “well, when I get that age, I will do the same.’’ He still hasn’t, but that’s OK, he’s a great son.

The overwhelming majority of my memories of my mother is how selfless she was. How hardworking she was. How everyone I knew loved her so much. This is not a cliche; I never once had anyone tell me a negative word about my mother, or said that she was anything but kind to them.



My friends loved coming to my house. They loved eating her meals. There were kids in our community who would stop by and visit her. Parents of my friends, who became friends with my mom, would tell me how much they enjoyed my mother. I can still vividly see her smile. I can still audibly hear her laugh.

One of my favorite things about my mother is how she seemed to have dropped the word “no’’ from her vocabulary. She didn’t say “no’’ when someone asked for help. She didn’t say “no’’ when someone invited her to do something. She didn’t say “no’’ when one of her four boys asked for something, even if it was something we didn’t need. If there was a way to say “yes,’’ she would find it.

For what it’s worth, I did have that mea culpa with my parents like I told my son that I did. I think I had more than one. It wasn’t for really big stuff. I didn’t run off and join a cult. I was never in juvenile detention. I never got bad grades. I was just a willful, stubborn, selfish, inconsiderate brat for many of those formative years.

So, I don’t care if you’re 20 or 50. If you haven’t went to your parents on bended knee, and on this Mother’s Day especially your mom, and asked for forgiveness for all the times you took her (them) for granted and caused her heartache, I would strongly encourage you to do it. Don’t do it for your own cleansing, although you will receive that. Do it for her. She deserves that.

Ken Vance

Editor