Sometimes I just miss my mom, you know? Today is one of those days. Perhaps it's because we are so close to celebrating yet another gift of life in our family and I so ache for my mother to be able to be here to see her great grandchild enter this world. I know she is with us in spirit, I feel her near almost every day and I am so thankful for her continued love and guidance even though she left this earth some 13 years ago.
In tribute to my Mom, I thought I would post the poem she wrote for me when I was a teenager struggling with life's many problems and trying to figure out what I believed then to be such heavy and burdensome problems. I was always wondering why the world never loved like I did (and I still wonder that at times)--but my mother knew me best of all back then and knew that this child of hers with this huge capacity for love just needed to be accepted and nurtured and encouraged to continue her quest to be kind and giving and caring.
My mother had a wonderfully loving heart and cared greatly for all of her children and always strived to give them a better life than what she herself had growing up. She gave me the gift of an open and caring heart and the gift of not judging others, but always being open to new and wonderful relationships. Through her and my father I learned to love without bias or prejiduce and I am so thankful for that gift--for my world is surrounded with kind, caring, beautiful, loving people from all spectrums of the rainbow. I am so truly blessed.
The poem below is how my mother saw me as a teenager, and for the most part, it is how I remain:
Ode To Pamela
Thou art the strange one, Pamela
Thy mystical dreams and fantasies
as romantic as a fairy tale
as malcontent as an infant
suckling its mother's withered breast.
Oh, but thou art the sensitive one
As fragile as an egg shell
but nay--not as shallow
for thy depth is unbeknownst
as the depth of the Ocean's waters.
Thou art the sweetest one, Pamela
Thy heart is filled with Love
So that it runneth over the brim
and trickles out like so many fingers
feeling their way to a final destination.
And thou art the silent one, Pamela
And secretive--thinking thou criest alone
When no ears are near to hear
Thinking no one cares
and never aware
that a mother hears with her heart. #
In tribute to my Mom, I thought I would post the poem she wrote for me when I was a teenager struggling with life's many problems and trying to figure out what I believed then to be such heavy and burdensome problems. I was always wondering why the world never loved like I did (and I still wonder that at times)--but my mother knew me best of all back then and knew that this child of hers with this huge capacity for love just needed to be accepted and nurtured and encouraged to continue her quest to be kind and giving and caring.
My mother had a wonderfully loving heart and cared greatly for all of her children and always strived to give them a better life than what she herself had growing up. She gave me the gift of an open and caring heart and the gift of not judging others, but always being open to new and wonderful relationships. Through her and my father I learned to love without bias or prejiduce and I am so thankful for that gift--for my world is surrounded with kind, caring, beautiful, loving people from all spectrums of the rainbow. I am so truly blessed.
The poem below is how my mother saw me as a teenager, and for the most part, it is how I remain:
Ode To Pamela
Thou art the strange one, Pamela
Thy mystical dreams and fantasies
as romantic as a fairy tale
as malcontent as an infant
suckling its mother's withered breast.
Oh, but thou art the sensitive one
As fragile as an egg shell
but nay--not as shallow
for thy depth is unbeknownst
as the depth of the Ocean's waters.
Thou art the sweetest one, Pamela
Thy heart is filled with Love
So that it runneth over the brim
and trickles out like so many fingers
feeling their way to a final destination.
And thou art the silent one, Pamela
And secretive--thinking thou criest alone
When no ears are near to hear
Thinking no one cares
and never aware
that a mother hears with her heart. #
