Wednesday, 19 May 2010
The Book of Days
By Sheila Halet
Many years ago, I was given a gift called The Book of Days. This book contained months and days along with lovely photographs of Biblical archaeology.
There is also space for personal stories of occurrences on particular dates. One of those times was August 19, 1997 whenRose Mittnick Silver, my Mom of blessed memory, died.
For 54 years I was her daughter and loved her with all my heart, yet I never showed it enough. She put up with my mood swings and crankiness and lack of focus and motivation in the education pursuits she so wanted me to accomplish. She gave me every opportunity to excel but I had a different plan - what it was God only knows.
This tribute to Mommy is very late in coming but with Mothers' Day just passed, I needed to write this, albeit surreal, as it seems.
My Mom came to this country around 1924 from Kiev in the Ukraine. It was a harrowing journey and took a long time to happen. The agents who arranged the trip were thieves and it took thirteen years for my Grandfather Morris and Grandmother Sarah to meet again in the USA. They were my Mom's beloved parents, so when I go to the cemetery to pay my respects to my parents, I also visit the graves of my long deceased grandparents, who I have never met and who died at the age that I am now.
Prior to My Mom's illness and death at 83, she was a loving and caring soul. She loved to cook and the holidays were just abundant with good food. My Daddy used to say, "Why go out to eat, Mommy makes the best food."
One day in the nursing home, a few short weeks before her heart gave out, she was feeling pretty good, so we took a walk downstairs to see her roommate who had moved. One of the nurses on seeing her said, "Rose, you look wonderful, why are you here?" To which she replied, "Why thank you, I'm pregnant."
That was My Mother, the first phone call in the morning and the last phone call at night. The good gossip and sense of humor, that filled my life are gone, replaced with memories, yet I have never been the same. It seems that some people come into your life and never leave it till you do. (die)
That was My Mother.
May her soul be bound up with her family members who were so dear to her. MOMMY I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU GREATLY.
[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]