My Mother is Poem…

I miss my mother every day. After she passed I started a habit of listening to somewhat thought provoking/depressing music on my way to school each morning and crying. I’ve moved passed that for the most part. With last year being my first year of teaching and with me approaching life in a sort of survival/I refuse to lose who I am sort of way, without realizing it, I mentally reserved my mornings for grieving. ( I know it’s probably a little bit strange that I’m talking/blogging about, but I actually think it’s really healthy, and to be honest I NEED to talk about it.) Summer has given me a lot more time to think and to deal with my mother’s passing. I will most likely never fully accept that she is gone, because to me she still feels too real. I am sure I will hold on to her memories with a sort of desperation, and I know that there will be times now, all the way to when I’m on my deathbed, where I will need to talk about her. Whether I’m talking about how much I miss her, or the days she spent in the hospital, or just sharing funny memories about her, talking about my mother will always be apart of who I am. My mother is stitched into the fabric of my life. She is woven into every memory I have from the time when I walked out of the middle of kindergarten and walked home just to see her, to my wedding day, to just today, when of my students saw her picture and said, “Your mom has curly hair, just like you,”. My mother does not physically need to be here to be a gigantic part of my life.

These are just a few memories of my mother that I’ve thought about today.

*I remember making cookies once when I was still living at home. I was at that stage where I was mixing the sugar(white and brown), vanilla, and egg together, and I was just about to pour in the flour. Thinking I had already added the flour, my mother grabbed a spoon and took a huge bite. We laughed about that for quite some time.
*I remember going through a really rough time about five years ago, and my mother and I taking a break together St. Luke’s. We sat in the hallway, facing the window and I cried. I remember telling her “This hurts like hell.” The fact that I was going through a rough time isn’t exactly memorable, but the way my mom sat beside me and rubbed my back is a memory I’ll keep.

These aren’t much, they’re just a few that crossed my mind today, and I wanted to write them down.


The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men – from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms. ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

My mom is a neverending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being. I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune. ~Graycie Harmon

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts. ~Washington Irving

God could not be everywhere, so he created mothers. ~Jewish Proverb

My mother is a poem
I’ll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.
~Sharon Doubiago


One thought on “My Mother is Poem…

  1. “My mother does not physically need to be here to be a gigantic part of my life.” That's a really incredible way to put it. I love the pictures and the quotes, too. I love you!

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