Remembering mothers and mother figures

I think I was reminded of it by all the beautiful rose bushes in this area that are in full bloom right now. It was a simple Mother’s Day memory from way back when I was a kid.

There was a red rose bush at the edge of our house. Before going to church on Mother’s Day, Daddy would go out to the bush and cut a couple of red rose buds off the bush and would pin one on my shirt and one on my sister’s dress. Back then, it was a way to honor your mother. Wearing a red rose would mean that she is still alive, and wearing a white one would mean that your mother had passed away.

If I was following that tradition this coming Sunday, I would be wearing a white rose to church. My mother, Ethel McPhail, passed away 30 years ago. Speaking of flowers, this Sunday at church, we will probably once again give plants to the mothers who attend. And it’s not just the mothers. The church staff makes a point of also honoring those special ladies, the ones they call the “mother figures.”

Who are the “mother figures?” It may be a grandmother, aunt, neighbor, teacher, or some lady that has played an important part in the life of a child. Simply, it is that lady who has been there, and helped in the role of a mother in someone’s life. And there have been some mother figures in my life.

First, there was Granny Cordie. Granny lived with us most of my childhood. She was gentle and sweet. She would be quick to take my side, even sometimes when she probably shouldn’t have. She provided comfort and encouragement. She was, well, Granny.

After Mama died, there was Ms. Lea. Leatrice Collins was my daddy’s “lady friend” for several years before he passed away. She was a part of our family. She was funny, interesting and caring. I could talk to her about things going on in my life, and know I would get an understanding ear. Even after Daddy passed, Terri and I made a point to visit Ms. Lea whenever we could.

Then there has been another lady who became a “mother figure” in my life. She was Micki Cottle, Terri’s mother. Yes, it is the same Micki Cottle whose columns still appear in this newspaper from time to time. Ms. Micki became a dear friend, who I enjoyed spending time with. She always would ask me what I was writing about for that week, and what else I was doing. She even called me, “the good one,” I think to primarily aggravate Terri.

Granny, Ms. Lea and Ms. Micki have passed away, and I am grateful for those mother figures, and for the place they have had in my life. But the truth is, nothing can take the place of my mother. As the years go by, the memories of Mama fade. Now the memories that stand out to me are not about events and important occasions, but of feelings. The feeling of comfort, when I was sick, knowing that Mama would make it all better. And somehow she would. There was the feeling of security, when I was a child, just crawling up in her lap, and when I was older, knowing that she would be there for support. She might be critical of my actions (probably for good reason), but I always knew she would be there for me.

It’s now been over 30 years since Mama passed away. Time seems to do something to memories. They don’t seem as fresh, and there doesn’t seem to be as many. But there is one thing time hasn’t affected. Those feelings of a mother’s love. You can’t describe it or explain it. But one thing I do know is that even now, there sure are times I miss it.