Lay away the story, --
There's a lack of something yet,
Leaves it incomplete; --
There is a special yearning --
Strangely undefined --
For a story sweeter still
Than the written kind
Therefore read no longer
I've no heart to hear
But just something you make up,
O my mother dear. --
With your arms around me,
Hold me, folded -- eyes, --
Only let your voice go on --
I'll be satisfied.
James Whitcomb Riley
Maybe this poem, written by one of America's best-loved poets, will touch you as well.
So, I sit here before this computer, as I do on most Sunday afternoons. Paul is busy adding brush strokes to another landscape oil painting for our daughter, Lori.
One day soon, the work will add to her growing collection of artwork in Denver.
Tootie Mae is checking out her profile on the inactive TV screen at the other end of the room.
She is wagging her skinny tail. Could be that precious mug on the set reminds the pretty little lady of her mother, the natural one, of course.
In the United States, Mother's Day is a holiday celebrated on the second Sunday in May.
Anna Jarvis, from Grafton, Va., first celebrated the occasion on the anniversary of the death of her mother. Because of Anna's campaign efforts, President Woodrow Wilson, in 1914, made the official announcements and proclaimed Mother's Day a national observance.
Oct. 27, of the same year, my mother, Geneva (Siner) Lynch was born. "Little Nevi," as she was affectionately called, was reared in Hoosierville and Hadleytown.
My mom attended Brazil High School, but, out of necessity, the teenager quit school at the end of her junior year and began working for Gus Loeb, proprietor of a local dry goods store, and for her brother-in-law, Clarence Crouse, in Hadleytown.
He owned a filling station/store.
Mother possessed the gift of music. She played the piano and several other instruments -- well. The little songbird and her sisters were well-known gospel singers in the area.
They were frequently requested to provide beautiful and comforting music at services held at Miller's Funeral Home, by Emanuel and Nicholas Miller, back in the day. They were popular at various churches and social events.
Her life gained new purpose when she met and married my father, Hugh Lynch Jr.
My parents were married on Easter, April 16, 1933. The young bride entered into motherhood April 28, 1934.
A bouncing 9-pound baby boy, my brother, John Wayne, came into her life. Etta Ann was born in 1935, and Larry Hugh joined the brood in 1937. Then, on Nov. 4, 1939, a bald-headed, left-handed, hand-full decided her Mother's Day while her man was rabbit hunting, imagine his surprise.
Her fourth child is this writer.
Dad jokingly said because of me, mom introduced herself to Bayer aspirins. Because of me, she needed a lot of them.
In March 1943, God called Etta Ann and Larry Hugh home.
Our grieving mother lost spirit in the dark days that followed. God saw her weeping, and on July 9, 1944, Dr. Timothy Weaver placed Sandra Elaine, a 5-pound blessing, into her frail arms.
Mother led us through the worst of times and provided us memories of the best of times. We loved her so much.
Alzheimer's claimed her golden years. "Little Nevi" lost spirit. Then one cold day in winter, when she could stand no more, a heart attack happened and death came to her door. She died Jan. 9, 1992.
Now, I know she is in heaven and all is right there for her. This child is happy for her, too.
I am fully aware that several years ago, I told you the aforementioned facts about my mother's life almost per letter.
I did this for good reason.
Last year, I was sitting in my kitchen shortly before Mother's Day. I was thinking of my loved one, reliving my life and times with her up to the very end.
Thoughts ran rampant at break-neck speed.
I am almost sure I did everything a daughter could do to help her and show my love and appreciation for all she did for me. Could there possibly be something else I could do for her on that special day, still?
Then, I dried the tears and took a vintage, hatbox, filled with family pictures from the closet shelf.
I know that good woman is in heaven. So, just in case my special angel is smiling down on me, the thought was, our mother might like seeing all of her brood together, as they are in the old picture plus one.
The beagle pups, the two geese beneath and near the well's platform the curious rooster -- more reminders.
I spliced a couple of snapshots of the first four of her children together and added the baby of our family into a picture perfect setting. No doubt, to see all of us together might have been one of mother's most perfect and happy Mother's Days.
As I wrote, the fifth child was born a year after Etta and Larry died. I hoped that our beloved mother would see all of us alive and well. I always loved to see her smile.
I want to share that simple gift with you, my readers. Watch for it.
Happy Mother's Day to all. Enjoy.
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.