Mom's Touch

I Googled my deceased mother's name tonight...

How pathetic, how desperate, how...me.

I guess I thought by doing that, she would somehow sense that I was reaching out to her, trying to connect with her, somehow trying to get close to her.

I miss her and I really need her right now.

When no one else would listen, my mother did.
When no one else made sense, my mother did.
When no one understood me, my mother did.

Even when I didn't ask for her help, she would sense something was wrong and would ask, "Is everything OK?" Sometimes she didn't even try to talk to me about my problems. She would just smile, reach out and gently rub my back and magically make my hurts and worries disappear. The magic, soothing, loving touch of a mother--Yes, God knew what He was doing when He created mothers--when He created my mom.

I miss her and I really need her right now.

Sitting here in a teary fog at 1am, I'm remembering the last time I saw her. It was in March--about this time, actually, in 2007. Our family had stopped in for a quick visit. Waiting on everyone else to gather their coats when it was time to leave, I sat on the floor next to where mom was sitting. Unable to talk for several years, she relied on facial expressions, motions and body language to communicate. She was in good spirits that night, but was also very tired, frustrated, frail and...ready. I think she knew her time to leave us was near. But in an unselfish, loving gesture--and I'll never forget this--she reached down with her left hand and gently rubbed my back. Even in her diseased, worn-out condition, she was thinking of me.

She knew I didn't want to leave her. She knew I didn't want her to leave me.

I miss her and I really need her right now.

The crossroads, twists and turns, detours, side streets and curves of life have really left a painful and scaring Mark on me this time.

I miss her and I really need her right now.

I Googled your name tonight, mom...