When thinking of my mother I can think of so many ways to describe her. Her strength was immeasurable, her patience sometimes frazzled and other times not, her eyes sometimes sad but when she smiled the world lit up. She was known to me best as one of the most incredibly kind and nurturing people I ever knew. She was not just my Mother, she was my Father, and my Best Friend. She was the Foundation of our family and of many people’s lives she was an important brick, mortar, beam, or nail.
Since she has been gone almost 16 years now there are many times when I think of her and still cry but more often than not I think of her and get the warmest feeling, as if she is right over my shoulder hugging me and pushing me on. I have to smile because above all of these things she was one of the most interesting people I ever met, she told a great story, she read everything, she had vision that many people lack when it comes to design and decorating, she used to love words and their origins, often reading the dictionary for the fun of it. She knew a little bit about a lot of things and she loved a good conversation with friends or family over tea and freshly baked goodies or a great meal and a glass of wine.
The thing I enjoyed most with her was just spending time. We never had to do anything special because just being with her was special. We could laugh for hours until we cried that’s the kind of days we would spend and they were the best of times. She just knew how to be comfortable and not need a lot of wealth to do it. The unique thing was that she had special relationships with everyone she knew. I was one of the lucky MANY to have known her well and loved her with all my heart, and miss her every day.
I wrote a poem about her that I especially love. It has been edited and altered many times and even tonight before this post. I wrote it at a Poetry Workshop that I was chosen to attend with 7 others who were more amazing Poets that me. I was honored to be taught by Fleda Brown the Delaware Poet Laureate and I wrote this for mom.
She Had Her Way
She had her way with the garden,
Trimmed, green, thick,
and tidy was the grass,
begging to be laid on, edging each brick
laid perfectly, one by one.
They seem to carefully frame
every bed as if each was a Masterpiece.
Every flower, fresh and succulent
with moisture; standing tall
as if they waited for the glory
of her gaze.
Siberian irises with their delicate
size and bold purples and yellows placed
to accent the borders of the deck,
knowing they are the first
to entice her to tranquil
places in the yard.
Holly trees tall and lush,
deserving of an entrance
sit at the front door
anticipating her arrival.
Nandinas stand at attention
like soldiers with strong legs
and broad shoulders
around the perimeter of the house
guarding her against the elements.
Pungent herbs; rosemary, chives,
sage, and fennel hold court
hoping they are chosen
for her next creation.
The importance of it all
was in each small detail.
The hostas placed carefully
around the Black Walnut tree.
The crepe paper, pink and orange poppies
laid peacefully shaded
at the base of the Maple.
The cosmos intermingling with caladium,
tiger lilies, inpatients and daisies,
Everything had its place.
The future of the garden
lay in her hands,
under her manicured nails,
in holes in the knees of her pants,
and a small smudge of sweat
and mud on her forehead.
She had her Way with the garden
and the garden had its way with her.
~Amy L. Kratz