My birthday is tomorrow.
I am turning 41. 41, not yet old
but no longer young, appropriately termed “middle-aged”. Birthdays have never been difficult for me,
it is, after all, just a number. This
one is different. With this birthday
come feelings of trepidation and wistfulness. Why? Why 41 and not 40? As I pondered on this question, I realized
this is the age my mother was when my father died. The age at which my mother was left a widow
with 6 children to either send out of the nest, tolerate through teenage years
while trying to maintain enough control to keep them from doing something
stupid, or to finish rearing.
41, so young to be left without the love of her life, so
young to be left to finish raising her children alone. And, yet she did it. She did not want to, and she didn’t do it
perfectly, but she carried on and her faith carried her and us through. And now, being here, ready to turn 41, I am
in awe and completely amazed that she did it.
That she didn’t give up. She got
up and went to work every day and trudged down her lonely, long path. She always reminded us that families are
forever, that death is temporary and we would see and be with our father again. She clung to that and gave us that witness
continually. She is amazing and so
strong. I appreciate her so much more
today than I did back then. (I was one
of the teenagers she had to tolerate and maintain some control over).
Now, turning 41, I can’t imagine the pain and sorrow she
endured and trudging on as she did. I am
in awe that she could sit through her oldest son’s graduation just a few weeks
after losing her husband then send him off on a mission 5 months later all
while trying to grieve and provide for the other children ranging in age from 10
to 17. My mother is amazing, and I have
not told her enough how much I love her and admire her for getting us through
such a difficult time. I appreciate her
faith and trust in a loving Heavenly Father and His plan for us and her
testifying to us often of that plan and eternal families.
I can never understand all that she went through because I have not experienced such a trial, but I am the same age she was when she suffered the greatest loss of her life. I have an 18-year-old about to graduate and who is preparing for a mission, the same age as my oldest brother was when my dad died. My middle child is the age I was (also a middle child) when I lost my father. These similarities give me a greater perspective of the daunting task that lay before my mother and gives me a greater understanding of the magnificent woman that she is. I love and admire her so much. To my mother: Thank you, I would not be who I am today without you, your perseverance, your strength, and your love. You're amazing.
