Those were the words of nationally syndicated radio talk show host, Don Imus, last week on the Fox Business Channel.
I totally concur.
This past Sunday, we celebrated a very special day for mothers. In the United States, we refer to it as “Mother’s Day”.
I don’t know what they call it in other countries. But I am sure they have some sort of special day set aside to honor the greatest woman in the world…”Mom”.
Mother’s Day, for me personally, is probably the worst day of the year. I do not want to leave the house.
I most certainly do not want to go to church on that day and hear the pastor (although I love him dearly) get up and talk about how great all the mothers are and have all the mothers in the congregation stand and give them a big round of applause.
I did not even want to get on Facebook and see all the posts about everyone’s mothers and all the pictures they were posting with their moms at church, or the restaurant, or at home…outside by the grill.
I ESPECIALLY did not want to see the pictures that were posted outside by the grill. Those were the ones that brought back the most memories of my mom, Patty Ann Grissom. God Rest Her Soul.
You see, all my life growing up for every mother’s day, my mom only wanted us to stay home and have my dad grill out hamburgers and hot dogs. That was all. It was simple. Just stay home… with her family… and grill out on the Weber Charcoal Grill.
I miss those times. I miss my mom. I do not like to see Mother’s Day come.
I know I deal with some guilt feelings from way too many Mother’s Days that I did not take off work and go and spend that day with my mother, wherever she may have been.
My mom always told me…”If you don’t come home to see me, you will be sorry one day when I am dead and gone.”
Well, Mom, guess what…you were so right!
My parents lived many places in their 52 years of devoted marriage to each other. Zion and Chicago, Illinois; Anchorage, Alaska; Cleveland, Tennessee; Ocala, Florida and lastly, Ft. Myers, Florida.
It did not matter where they were living, my mother ALWAYS referred to it as “home”.
“When are you going to come home and see me?”…she would ask on many occasions.
I would always follow it up by saying…”Mom, that is not my home.”
To which she would reply…”Your home is wherever your mom lives.”
WOW…if only I had been a little smarter, wiser and more of a loving son to get off my butt the weekend before Mother’s Day and get to my mom and spend that day with her. If only……
Don’t get me wrong. There were many “Mother’s Days” that I did spend with my mom. But I should have spent every one of them with her…not just some.
Now, that she has passed away, I will…and do, regret that very much.
If only I could get on a plane and fly to Anchorage, Alaska and meet her in the lobby of the airport and give her a big hug and say, “Happy Mother’s Day…MOM!”
If only I could get in the car and drive to Ocala or Ft. Myers, Florida and sneak in her house on a Saturday night before Mother’s Day and give her a big hug and kiss and tell her that I am “home” with her for the weekend.
Do not live your life on the “if only” phrase and have regrets like I do.
Because now I can only get in my car…head up North Lee Highway in Cleveland, Tennessee…and visit my mother’s grave at Sunset Memorial Gardens. It is there I stand at the foot of her plot, talk to her and wish her Happy Mother’s Day, cry a whole lot…and get in my car and drive back home.
No…I do not like Mother’s Day at all.