by Susan Orchard

Created on: May 10, 2009

This will be my seventh Mothers Day without my Mother. It is no less painful than the first. It is also the first time my Birthday has fallen on Mothers Day since she passed away, making this one somewhat more melancholy.

I spent the morning in quiet reflection of the only gift Mom ever asked for: peace and quiet. It wasn't until much later in life that I understood that need for peace and quiet myself. Two very precious objects that we seldom obtain and money cannot usually buy. One of her best lessons of life was that we could have anything we want if we have the money and the time. We often have one or the other and seldom have both.

Mom quizzed me on spelling words and proofread my essays although she had only an eighth grade education herself. In her time, women did not finish high school; they went to work on the family farm. She was the third youngest of ten children and did not have an easy childhood, yet she had many happy stories to share with us, the most humorous ones around her pet cow Butch. Living in a rural area during my early childhood years we had a cistern for water, a coal furnace, a wringer washer, a huge garden to be tended, chickens to butcher and an outdoor toilet. Mom was responsible for tending to all of this in addition to raising the four of us. She handled it all with a Mother's love.

If I had only one word to describe her, it would be survivor. When World War II broke out, Mom moved to Baltimore, Maryland to stay with her Aunt Lucy and worked in a factory making camouflage netting. She returned home after the war, married my Dad and raised 4 daughters. She was widowed at the age of 41 and married a second time in 1971. Her second husband passed away several years ago. Mom survived a triple bypass, breast cancer and a stroke. In 2001 she had another stroke and refused a pacemaker. She had made the decision that she wanted to die on her own terms. In May 2002, that is exactly what she did, after having dinner with the family the men went into the living room to watch Red Wings playoff hockey and she went into her bedroom, laid down and breathed her last breath.

Last summer my sister presented me with an envelope containing a Mother's Day poem and gift I had made for Mom in 1970. We moved to Detroit in 1971, and Mom moved seven times between 1971 and 2002. This Mom's treasure moved with her every time and now resides in my safe deposit box as a remembrance of the Mom I can no longer hug in person. The Red Wings are in playoff hockey again this Mothers Day and I am sending virtual hugs up to heaven to her tonight and every Mothers Day to come.

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