I wouldn’t be mistaken if I assumed that each and every son the world over feels his mother is the most beautiful of them all. I can only hope they all feel such a way.
Call mine the ultimate bias. I know you’re the most beautiful.
The story that forever epitomizes my eternal love for you is the one of heartbreak. Upon losing your own mother at the tender age of 14, and your being the eldest of the Brooks kids at the time, Aunt Lina broke the gut-wrenching news shortly thereafter: “Linda, you’ve got to quit school and get a job to help out.”
Jarring must have been that sequence of unforeseen events, and that’s an understatement. A job at the hospital was lined up for you, your having no say in it, and the ultimate curveball of life had hit you like a swift bullet—your adolescence not yet fully formed. Your first paycheck was so paltry, you literally cried all of the long walk to a home you no longer recognized, and this, in the dead of winter of a frigid, unforgiving Canada.
That story, among the many others, lives in me so vibrantly, like a tattoo—as do you, mom. Somehow you matriculated an adversarial maze of a life, raising three kids void of any semblance of a parental guide, reconciling with your estranged father, all the while working (I honestly can’t recall your taking off one day in 30 years of tenured work) to achieve an enviable retirement.
Hard knocks are not just for the broad-shouldered.
Beneath that velvet, touched-by-an-angel, made-for-the-silver-screen exterior is no less than a warrior.
I see why father fell for you on first sight. And left America to become a Canadian citizen. A man, no matter his age, will go where true love lives. He loved you. That kind of love is rare anymore. Father was fortunate.
If I haven’t told you that you’re my hero, let Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2 be the record that speaks volumes. For you, mother, are the genesis of it all.
You are the “mother” of a quiet yet global movement that, in all your majestic modesty, you wouldn’t dare think of taking credit for. But you are.
I thank you for everything you’ve done for me. The prayers. The tough love. The gentle hand. The inspiration for charting my own path in forging a life worthy of my effort and my dreams. To remain true to our roots whether wealth or hardship.
We honor you on Pamper-Her-Friday and this Mother’s Day . . . and ever after.
I love you, mom.
Forever and always,
Pamper the mothers . . . for they are the life-givers. -Rg2
© 2017 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®