One More Day…

What if I had one more day?  One more day to spend with Mother?  Twenty-four hours of time to share with her?  A gift of seconds and minutes and hours on an invisible clock?  Treasured days and months and years on papered calendars sprinkled with ‘tickled-pink’ pictures taken for granted….. Oh, give them all back to me!  Please, for a ‘once in a lifetime,’ day.

As a very little girl my mother used to sew pretty dresses made of cotton and lace for me.  A matching one for my favorite baby doll, you see.  So pretty they were.  All of her time she took for me.

As a child of five, I sprained my ankle v.e.r.y. bad.  During the winter, Mother pulled me on a wooden sled.  To the corner bus stop we would go.  Leaving behind a track of runners in the snow.  So hard it must have been.  Thick, white wet, piled high to her waist.  Huffing and puffing she hurried home, where a babe and a toddler waited by the door.

Every day in the late of noon, Mother planted her three sprouting ‘blooms’ in a back seat of blue velvet.  It was a four door ‘56, Chevrolet.  45 minutes later, we would see Daddy leave his factory job.  From inside the car, the outside air smelled so bad, mother rolled the windows up by hand.  “QUICK,” she said, “Before you get sick!”

Soon we moved to bigger house.  A baby sister was on the way!  That same year I was cast in my first play.  Mother sewed a white crepe gown, fitted me with ‘magic’ wings and attached a shiny silver halo wrapped with crushed silver foil.  So perfect it was!  Still, I don’t remember appreciating the time it took to do it all.  Did I kiss her soft cheek?  Hug her tight or say, “Thank you, Mom?”

Before long my youngest brother was born.  Now there were seven of us in our ‘family tree.’  My mother was spread so thin.  Still, she did the best she could.  She worked outside the home and inside too.  The year I started college, the littlest one began kindergarten.  So many years between us all.

I don’t remember exactly when, but Mother was fairly young when she was diagnosed with Chronic Conditions.  “Emphysema and Bronchitis,” her doctor said.  They are slow and sneaky diseases.  In the beginning they are quiet too.  Later, they can’t be ignored.  It was hard for Mother to catch her breath, to walk or even talk.  She grew sicker and weaker year after year.  Her conditions were “silent,” no more.  Coughing and choking could be heard everywhere.  It couldn’t be stopped.  The sicknesses took her breath away.

So hard for me to touch these letters on my keyboard.  One by one I tap them out.  Much more time it’s taking me.  There is that word again….time.  My eyes are welling with tears until they spill over onto cheeks.  How can they not?  This is my mother that I’m writing about…I must stop to get a tissue, to wipe my eyes and blow my nose.

I inhale deeply.  So very difficult it is to think back upon, to admit.  In the end I prayed to God for Mother to breathe no more… more.  I prayed for her to be in heaven, to be free  with God.  To have a new life with Him by her side, where  she could breathe freely up above.  No more sickness, no more struggles.

For my answer then, if I had one more day?  One more day to spend with Mother?  24 hours to share with her?

I would tell her all and everything that she ever meant to me.  I would not waste a single second.  No more little ‘games’ to play.  Life is fleeting.  We live and die.  I’d love her with all my might.  Hug her tight.  Kiss her warm cheek.  Hold her hands.  We’d have family time to cuddle great grandbabies that she’s never seen.  I’d look at her, really look at her.  Walk barefoot.  Stare at blue skies.  Smell flowers.  Appreciate life.  Laugh out loud together until it hurts.  Share a cup of tea.  Forgive.  Breathe her scent in and out to remember it…forever. 




30 thoughts on “One More Day…

  1. This was such a heartfelt and wonderful message. I like that you put every emotion, as you typed it, down. This moved me by your powerful, teary eyed message today. Perfect timing for Mother’s Day, too. I would love to have more ‘chats,’ hugs, kisses and time with my Dad! It is so important not to waste a moment! I loved the real photos of your grandchildren interspersed the artistic ones, Kim.


    • Thank you for your moving comment. You are right. I wrote it as I ‘felt’ it. Extremely difficult to release, but needed from within. A hug to your ‘dad’ in heaven. Perhaps, he’s chatting with my mother in a field of flowers? Making new friends….? 🙂


  2. priceless post KG, a loving mother is God on earth. There is no second thought about that. I never had a child but I have seen my pet cats nurturing their kittens… there certainly is something divine about that! pure divine!


    • You certainly have beautiful ‘Mother’s Intuition,’ nurturing your mama cat while she tenders her baby kittens. What a picture you paint for me on this near, “Mother’s Day!” Thank you for your time in reading. What a wonderful ‘gift.’


  3. Reblogged this on Forget the Viagra, Pass Me a Carrot and commented:
    It is Mother’s day in various places today. Mothers and daughters can have complicated relationships – we all have our face that we show to the world and it was only when my mother was in her last weeks that at 94 and delightfully demented, she became the young child and I became the mother. Surreal but it gave me an opportunity to spend that one more day and talk about things that had remained unsaid for 60 years. Don’t wait – say them today.


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