Mother's Day Poem - I'm Becoming my Mom!

In May of 2022, my mom had a brain bleed. Healthy, active, 76-year-old Mom started having high blood pressure issues, and as a result had a brain bleed that put her in and out of hospitals and rehab, and on the verge of death more than once. My three brothers and their families, plus my stepdad, spent about six months running back and forth to facilities to be with her, to help her eat, to just talk with the doctors about her prognosis. Fortunately, she survived. She is mostly herself, albeit she tires much more easily and forgets things often. She doesn't have the motivation she used to have to do things, but she is still here, and we're thankful. So the latter part of 2022 and much of 2023, I practiced the above song by Jim Brickman on the piano, trying to play chords, plus specific notes, and giving it my own flair. I replaced all the references to children with my brothers' and my names.

I was at my mom's house around Mother's Day 2023 and played it on the piano for her. I was nervous, and I didn't play it perfectly, but I did it! I may never do it again, but I did it!

I love my mother. She was my rock growing up, my supporter, my confidante, my best friend. "Daddy's little girl" gets lots of attention, but does it match the closeness of a mother and daughter?

Even if mommy is close as a child, times change, though. Now, I’m a woman. I take care of myself. I rely on myself. I'm all grown up now.

But am I really? Or am I still that little girl that longed to be with her mother, depending on her for attention, support, and protection, among a lot of other things...? Am I still Mommy's girl?

Bruises and boo-boos

Gossip and lies--

The woman just smiles

As the little girl cries.

Hot chocolate and Mommy

On wet, rainy days--

The woman sits quietly

As the little girl plays.

Mud pies and Barbies

And Timey-Tell dolls--

The woman stands strong

As the little girl falls.

Harsh words and secrets

And Daddy’s good-byes—

The woman moves on

As the little girl hides.

Tears and confusion

And unexplained sighs--

The woman grows up

As the little girl dies.

_____________________

There! I’ve finished another little poem

About a little girl growing up,

Just like I have—

Or so I think…sometimes.

My mom is proud of me.

I’m a grown woman.

I have a house, a car,

A job that pays well.

I’m strong and independent,

Can support myself and

Make my own decisions—

Just like she taught me.

And I can speak my mind

And question her logic

And disagree, sometimes sternly,

Because of what she’s made me.

She touched my heart and conscience

That often work against me.

Sometimes it’s too much to care so much…

And who do I turn to?

I have friends and siblings

And a guy for many years.

And I cherish and need them,

Yet Mom often I run to…Dadgummit!

How silly I am

When suddenly my eyes

Usually tough and dry

Tear up when I think of Mom.

Do we ever really NOT need our mothers? I believe the answer is a big, fat NO! I hurt for those who did not have a wonderful, caring mother who instilled in them a sense of right and wrong, self-worth, independence and drive, and all the other important qualities that sends a child out to be successful in the world. And love, love, love—so much unconditional love that no matter what you do and where you go, you you can always go back, and she will be there. I have that kind of a mother. Not everyone can say that...and that hurts me for them. A loving mother is a great gift, especially when she becomes your best friend.

I’m in my 40s now. I will need my mother in my 50s…and in my 60s...and even my 70s. I have visions of my mom in her 100s (she’s very healthy!) and me in my 80s. And I will still be her little girl. I will still need her. I will still ask her for advice. And I will still need for her to comfort me, as any little girl would.

Yeah, she’s still here

But too far away

And visits become fewer

As life becomes fuller.

What do I do now, Mom?

Why did he do that, Mom?

Why is life so hard, Mom?

Am I doing the right thing?

Aren’t I tougher than that?

Can’t I do it on my own?

Sure I can—and I will!

But is that what Mom would do?

Gosh—sometimes I catch myself

Saying phrases she says

Giving advice she has given—

Did you brainwash me, Mom?

Sometimes I’ll even look over,

Catch a reflection in the mirror,

The turn of the smile, the eyes—

It’s my mother. It’s my mother!

God, I’m becoming my mother!

Does any girl think that will happen?

Oh, God, I’m becoming my mother!

Thank God I’m becoming my mother.

Thank God…’cause there’s nothing better.

Thank God for my Mother