Memories of my Momma...

The year after my Momma left us, it was decided that my sisters and I would speak at the yearly Relay for Life about and honoring my mother. I immediately started trying to think of the best ways to describe Momma and her passion for life, her love of her family, and the many other things that made her such a precious, unique, and gifted individual. Of course the final product that we ended up reading was not what you see here, but it did incorporate a lot of what is here. Anyway, I thought y'all might like to read it...

My Momma was the biggest person I knew; those of you who knew her, know that I am not referring to the physical, but the emotional, the mental, the “thing” that makes a person what he or she is. She could be tough, loud, blunt, and all at the same time, the most loving, kind, caring, compassionate person you could ever meet. How do you describe someone like that? How can you put to words someone who affected every aspect of your life? I truthfully don’t know, but I do know I’d like to try…

From my earliest memories, I can remember feeling like my sisters and I were the most important parts of Momma’s life. Everything she did was for us in some way. Whether it was working, not working, trekking back and forth from ball games, church, trips, or every other imaginable thing that girls have the tendency to be involved in, it was for us. She wanted us to be everything that we could. She told us from day one that we were smart, beautiful, wonderful, talented, and above all, hers. The last description was the most important. We were hers. She made each of us what we are because of what she did for us. She taught us by example how to show someone they were loved, cared for, and cherished. There’s never been a time in my life, or Robin’s, or Andrea’s, when we didn’t KNOW that we were loved and treasured, even when we were wrong. There was nothing she couldn’t fix, make better, or change. Each one of us had the privilege of knowing that we were the most important person in someone’s very existence, our Momma’s.

Now don’t get me wrong. Momma could push! If she even thought for a split second that you were doing something wrong or making the wrong decision, she’d tell you, quickly. But even through the heated arguments, the tears, and the temper tantrums, we still knew she loved us and only wanted us to have the best and be the best that we could possibly be. And you know what, more often than not, she was right. She had the uncanny ability to see things that we couldn’t. But she knew when to step back and let us falter, fail, and mess up, but then she’d come in, help us pick up the pieces (sometimes with a healthy dose of “I told you this wouldn’t work”) and remind us that it was alright, we’d live through it and know better next time.

I can’t say that I know a single person that doesn’t have a Mary story. Most of them are good, some of them contain an extra large dose of that Smith temper she was famous for, but they’ll all end with the same thing. She touched lives. She helped, she cared, she got involved, and she gave what ever she thought needed to be given. She was one of the most unselfish people that I’ve ever known. She was an encourager. It was important to her to make people see their potential. She wanted everyone in her life to succeed and be happy. She was a counselor. How many of us can think of times when Momma listened, cried or laughed with us, or just by sharing a hurt, made us feel better? She was a friend. Momma became a part of some many peoples’ lives. Every one that knew her feels the same; she had a way of becoming a part of your life and afterward, your life was never the same.

But, most importantly, she was Momma. She was everything to me. She was everything to Andrea. She was everything to Robin. She was my best friend. She was my chief resource in all things domestic, whether it was gardening, cooking, cleaning, creating, or anything for that matter. I know that as mothers themselves, she was an example to my big sisters. And they have wonderful children to prove it. She taught us all so much. But above all, she taught us to care, to love, and to give.

A friend of mine lost her Mom not long after Momma left us. She asked me one day, “Beth, how do we go on? Who do we go to now? What do we do?” I wanted so much to be able to be like Momma and give her an answer that would both comfort her and answer her questions, but all I could do was tell her something that had happened to me not long after Momma passed away.

One day, I found myself looking at my sisters, and just observing us doing what we do best, planning a party, specifically, my oldest niece’s wedding. It cut through my heart that Momma wasn’t there. I went through so many emotions in just seconds. I was angry and hurt, lonely, and confused. I wanted to scream and cry all at once. It became crystal clear to me how my Momma, my sisters, and I had always come together to make a whole that was just right. And now, the biggest and best part of that coming together was gone. And suddenly, someone laughed. It sounded like Momma. I was drawn back into the conversation and realized my sister just for a split second had become very much like Momma. I began to watch for it and was amazed at what I saw. Each of us carries a very special part of Momma inside of us. Whether it is Andrea with her tendencies to love so deeply and care so thoroughly, or Robin with her fascination with new recipes and cookbooks, or even myself, walking through the kitchen and seeing the poor little plant in the corner that’s been neglected or getting so absorbed in Momma’s flowers that I forget what it is that I am supposed to be doing, those pieces of Momma are still there. And they always will be. We still make that whole; it’s just a little different now. And I think that if it is possible, it is at those times that Momma looks down and smiles, knowing that she will never really be gone, that we will keep her in our hearts, minds, and lives, forever.