It Was a Wednesday

It had been a normal Wednesday for the most part, except that I had stopped at Mom's little apartment on my way to work to put some food I had cooked for her the night before in her fridge so that she could eat it for lunch. I used my key and entered as quietly as I could, knowing that Mom was probably still sleeping soundly in her tall bed ... a bed so tall that my short little mom had a step stool to stand on so that she could get in and out easier. After I put the food in the fridge and placed the roses I had bought for her in a vase on the small kitchen table, I tiptoed into Mom's bedroom to check on her. Mom was a snorer, and I could hear her before I could actually see her ... she was burrowed under the covers with only the right side of her face peeking out from under the heavy floral comforter. I remember thinking how small Mom looked in the giant bed, almost like a little child rather than an 85-year-old woman. I watched her sleep for a few minutes, thankful for the time my children and I were getting to spend with her since she had moved to Kansas City six weeks prior. I leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek, not wanting to wake her as I whispered, "Love you, Mom." I smiled as I climbed into my car and drove to work, thinking about Mom snuggled in her bed.

A normal Wednesday ... I worked ... I called Mom on my way home and told her the kids and I would be over soon to take her for ice cream to celebrate her six weeks being an official Kansan. Mom laughed as we chatted, and I could picture her crinkled nose and squinted eyes ... I always loved it when Mom laughed. Meghann didn't feel well, so Brad and I went to pick Mom up for ice cream ... that's when the normal Wednesday became anything but. Brad entered Mom's apartment before me, and he was already calling 911 by the time I saw her ... in her favorite chair, hands folded neatly in her lap, leaning forward with her chin on her chest. I knew immediately, just as Brad had when he saw her ... Mom was gone. That was eight years ago today ... eight years ... it was a Wednesday ... a Wednesday I will never forget. 

Someone at my office asked me last week if there was one thing in my life I would do over if I could ... there are so many more than one ... so many, many, many more than one. But as I told my life-saving head doctor earlier today ... there's one in particular that would top the list for me. I would talk to my mom and dad ... honestly and openly ... I would look into their eyes, and I would talk to them. I would ask them some questions, and I would answer the ones they would ask of me. I would tell them how very much I loved them ... how very much I appreciated the love they gave to me. I would hold their hands, look into their eyes and talk to Mom and Dad ... honestly and openly.

So, today, Mom, as on so many other days ... I miss you. There's hardly a day that goes by that I don't think of you and Daddy ... the way you smiled, the twinkle in his eyes, the things you both taught me, the way you both loved me. I hope it's true that people know one another in heaven, and if it is, I know that Daddy was waiting to see you on that Wednesday. It was a Wednesday, Mom ... it was a Wednesday.