Mom, Again—Is This Too Much? A Natural for Women’s History Month

Larada Horner-Miller

1 year ago

ith her Panda hat on!- would have — With her Panda hat on!

Can we ever write too much about our moms? I continue to honor women in my life for National Women’s History Month, and Mom is a natural to share today.

Today is twelve years since Mom died. I feel melancholy and I yearn for her familiar presence in my life! As I struggle with this anniversary, I remember the multiple moments that explode in my memory of our last day together.

I feel a poem coming on! This is a rough first draft, so let me know what you think! You’re going to get to see how I write my poetry: thoughts come to me and then I go with it, massage it, enlarge it and then possibly delete the whole thing. I’ll share the final copy with you in a couple weeks.

Can You Ever Write Too Much About Our Your Mom?

Your mom, mine
	Our first playmates,
		The familiar heartbeat that we knew!
	She looms large in our lives
And then the day comes—
        She dies!
Can you ever write too much about your mom?

Today, twelve years after her death,
	I wonder—
		Can I ever write too much about Mom?

Here I am 71, remembering her at my age.
	I don’t feel old,
		But I remember her older,
			Vibrant,
				A large part of my life!

I circle back to her daily,
	With a thought, ‘she’d like this. She’d laugh at that!”
That’s how she lives with me!

My mom, like yours, holds 
a special place in your heart.
Anniversaries come and go—
	I’ve cried over the years,
		But the earthshaking pain
			Has lessened.
Why is today different?
	Melancholy
		A deep yearning for her.
Why?

I have called my brother several times today,
	The anniversary of her death,
	About the NCAA tournament
		Never mentioned Mom and today’s loss,
			But I needed him!
				I needed the connection to her!

As I’ve lived these twelve years
	Without Mom,
I missed sharing my triumphs,
			My first book, This Tumbleweed Landed, self-published.
She never held a brand-new copy in her hands
	And sobbed with me 
		With my success
			With tears of joy!

I missed talking about the actual writing,
The book awards,
My journey
 	And her influence in many of them.

As I researched background for When Will Papa Get Home?,
	She would have enjoyed a visit to the Philly Place
		And reminiscing.
	Mom would have loved Maria and her whole family
		But cried at the prejudice and injustice
                     they endured.

Actually, she did read my first two books,
	Because I wrote them before she died.
She read everything I wrote,
	Flooding me with compliments 
and suggestions to change.

Mom helped me write my book, Let Me Tell You a Story,
	With Dad in 1992.
He dictated the stories to her and she wrote them
	Out long hand.
Then I typed them up—
	A family production.
So, she saw that book published
	For my dad’s 75th birthday.

Dad and Mom danced to Marshall Flippo
	So, she would have loved the stories
		Of our conversation.
If she would have read Just Another Square Dance Caller,
	They would have danced to many of Flippo’s caller friends.
	Her laughter would have rung out loud at the hilarious
		Stories and Flippo’s “Dirty joke.”

My grief memoir, Time to Grow Up, about her death and Dad’s,
	Would have overwhelmed Mom.
She was shy, unassuming,
	never wanting to be 
		On the center stage.
So that book would have been too much for her,
	But I can see her finishing it with a sigh
		And a comment, “Good job! You captured your pain!”

I am so glad she didn’t experience the coronavirus pandemic,
	Isolated alone in our home
		In a small ranching community.
Before she died, I called her daily,
	But I would have called her more often.
If she would have read my book, Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better?
	She would have answered every question
		At the end of every chapter
			And thanked me for the comfort
				And challenge of the book.

With my book, Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Christmas Memoir, 
	Mom would have laughed out loud at the humor,
		And thanked me for the deep spiritual message
			I offered the reader.

My new book, Was It a Dream?: Navigating Life’s Journey Through Poetry,
	Would have thrilled her 
                with reading poetry about George Strait.	

And today, Mom would be saying, “
Where’s the next book? 
I’m ready for it!
	Come on, girl!”

I keep saying “would have,” but she walked beside me
	On every book,
		Sat next to me as I wrote every word.

As I’ve grown in my faith,
	I miss our deep spiritual talks
		Driving around the ranch.

Her laughter and sense of humor blessed any time
	We were together.

For twelve years or longer, I miss her cooking, 
her rattling around in the kitchen,
	knowing a delicious meal would be coming soon!

When someone owns a deep space
	In your heart,
Their absence leaves a hole.

I’ve spent twelve years 
	Healing
	Crying
	Writing
	Dancing
	Healing

But here I am, twelve years later,
	Missing my mom!
		Her smell
			Her laughter
				Her presence.

Do we ever get over the loss of mom?
Can You Ever Write Too Much About Our Your Mom?
	I can’t!

Finally,

Writing about all the “would haves” for my mom, once again has helped me deal with today. What’s your thoughts?

VOTE PLEASE!

My book, Was It a Dream?, is in 8th spot in the final round right now. Your vote would really help. Last year, my book, Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Christmas Memoir, won this contest.

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