Some of you have the pleasure of knowing my mother. She comes out to Baron von Swagger shows and hangs out at my place sometimes. She’s a cool lady and has been as long as I’ve been around. She’s been doing this job for thirty years; twenty-six of those years have been double time. I was a pretty good kid, but I wasn’t perfect. She has the patience of a saint. Those of you who know my brother know she must!
Mom was always the one helping me with my homework, or walking the aisles of Hobby Lobby while we planned the next school project. She was the one that encouraged me to read. Whenever I awoke from a bad dream, she comforted me. She let me know she was religious while leaving me open to make my own choices. She taught me how to drive, knowing my father’s temper wasn’t the best learning tool. She held me when I cried from the agony of my first heartbreak. She believed in me and told me I could be anybody I wanted to be.
When Dad passed away, they had been divorced for over six years. Yet she was there for me and my brother immediately and entirely. In the dark silence of my uncle’s house, I knelt next to the couch where she slept and woke her. Once again, she held me as I experienced sorrow the depths of which I’d never experienced. She gave me words of comfort and as much reassurance that any mortal could. She held my hand and smiled.
In good times and bad, Mom has always been just a phone call away. I know I can reach out to her at any time and she will be there gladly. When I talk to her, I hear the joy in her voice. I know she is proud of me. I don’t have a little picture frame that says, ‘WORLDS BEST MOM’. I don’t need to advertise. The smile on my face says everything. Anyone that knows her knows that’s true. I love her dearly and wish her the happiest of Mother’s Days.