My mother, Meg, is 82 and the age itself conjures images of white hair, stooped posture, decrepitude, and yet she defies all of this with her beautiful, generous presence in so many of our lives. She battles deafness, combats macular degeneration of the eyes, and has overcome breast cancer, multiple broken bones, grief and trauma, with the most incredible resilience I have ever seen in another human being.
Not only that, Meg is always willing to listen – even to criticism. She does listening better than anyone I know and her support of her three children, eleven grandchildren, and the so-far four great-grandchildren, is solid and unwavering.
Sometimes she and I get a bit impatient with each other because, even though we are so mutually attuned, we are very different. Meg is impetuous, fast and good at multi-tasking whereas I am cautious, ponderous and sometimes timid. Nevertheless, we share the same heart; we miss the same person (my dad who died so young); and we want the very best for the whole ever-extending family.
Below is my mother’s poem about death:
MARY
Her hand,
a strong but ageing hand,
slipped momentarily through
a curtain made of gossamer,
took hold
of both of mine,
and pulled me through.
Her smile a twinkle
and her voice like
ripples in a stream.
“Come, meet my son.
He’s waiting over there.”
And, arm in arm,
we moved
to His embrace.
My mother, Meg, is 82 and the age itself can often lead to intermittent thoughts and wonderings about death. This poem dispels the fear of death and, for me, breaks through the discomfort of talking about death.
My mother is a poem. We all are.
jmgoyder 
Ah, to have my mom at 82 again ~sigh~ It’s been a long and winding road to 92, but I’m still grateful to have her in my life. Tell you mom you will still need her at 92.
Beautiful! And if I forget to write tomorrow – please wish Ants a most beautiful birthday! I have my birthday on the same day – great day to be born 😉 Please tell him that that crazy American woman wishes him all the best and will raise my glass to him!
Very beautiful…. Diane
Dearest Jules, That is a treasure that we will keep forever. Heather xxx
Sent from my iPad
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Beautifully said.
Beautiful
I am the same age as your mother and so relate with understanding to her poem.
she really is a living poem and her poem is beautiful –
my belief about what happens when we die exactly. wish your mother and Ants well from me
I love hearing about your mom. I am so glad she is the way she is – there for you during this tough time in your life. When I see her commenting on your blog, I start to grin. She’s a fantastic lady I’ve never met. So much love between you both. I feel it all the way in the USA!
Thinking of you, Julie.
A beautiful poem and having met your mother, I know that she is a beautiful person.
Awesome poem, about someone who seems like an amazing woman
I love Beth’s response. Thank you for sharing your Meg Mom with us.
Very beautiful, all of it, Julie.
Two truly talented and lovely women.
Lovely image . . .
Hi, Julie — I’ve been gone a while, tending to my new circumstances. Hoping to be able to pop in now and again. I’m so glad to see you’re still blogging. I’ve missed your thoughtful posts.
This is a lovely poem. Comforting and generous. Thank you for sharing it.
A lovely poem. She must be a very special person. How lucky you are to have her.