Helen Elaine Kern Markwart
July 31, 1921 - May 6, 1999.
Shortly after mother died I was fortunate to be able to join a mother/daughter grief group. This was a wonderful experience where adult daughters shared the sadness and loss due to the death of our mothers. Each of us brought a unique experience to the group. I was and am grateful for the experience.
During the group I often doodled in my journal while listening to the others share their thoughts and feelings. In spite of the sometimes strained relationship I had with her I was able to think of many things for which I am thankful that I had the mother I had.
During the early days of my grieving, I spent time making a lamp shade with old buttons that she had. Doesn't every mother have a collection of old buttons? Touching all those buttons, many I remember from my childhood, was a healing experience. Sewing each one, one at a time, onto the shade was meditative as well. Later I found the perfect lamp base and the whole thing is magnificent. After I die, I wonder who will want mother's beautiful lamp.
1 comment:
Indeed, "Happy Birthday Mother"
Let me introduce myself. I am Bubabear’s younger sister. I live far away from Bunabear, but distance has not lessened the faithfulness of my sister. I will attempt to respond to her. Caution, she is the writer in the family.
Here goes:
I too have held Mother in my heart this 31st day of July. I especially felt the tug of memory as I looked at the doodles you made during your meetings with your support group back in 1999. I shared that same mother and my memories are cut from the same cloth yet the warp and woof of the fabric has taken on a different look and feel, a different texture if you will.
Perhaps I should take the time to doodle my thank you to mother in order to recognize the weaving that was my life with her. Dear sister, our difference in age somehow gave us a different mom. But for now I ponder my time with her and find it difficult. It would not be fair of me to say I resented her. That would come from the place in my heart that stores up the sad things I saw in her. What would be a better tribute is to share the things I saw and heard from her that I now, and truth be told have for some time, emulate. My mother, our mother, was a woman of faith. It was played out in all areas of her life. I believe she lived with a hope. At times I felt it was a false hope, but it helped her survive. Now I see it as the strength that always gave her the courage to say “when I have a shop of my own”. (My sister will remember that and will understand the context. For the rest of you who may be reading this, you missed out! You didn’t know this woman who did everything with the hope of a better tomorrow both here on earth and in glory.) It was she who taught me who God is, and that He is faithful. Her favorite hymns still make me cry because they remind me what she believed. The sadness comes when I remember that she believed in her Savior, she believed in her children, she believed in tomorrow, but she never believed in herself.
On this her 87th birthday, I hope she knows now that she was created in the image of God, and she created an image of God for her children. That vision is why and how we all came to faith. I am forever grateful for that. I live out my faith differently that you do, but it means the world to me just as yours does to you. Do I miss her? Yes! I would love to have one more conversation with her. To ask her a question, to see if I turned out like she dreamed I would. Now that I have a daughter of my own, I know of those dreams, I know of imperfection and disappointment, and I know of pride and victory. I hope that someday, when we are reunited, we will see mother “in her own shop” so to speak. Mom, we love you!
Oh, and when you die, I get the lamp!
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