For My Mother

I've always enjoyed writing. I never really kept a journal; I just always liked to write stories about my experiences. I did keep a diary when I was in 4th Grade; I attended three different schools that year, so I am sure that had something to do with it.

I wrote things like-

Dear Diary,I wish I had long beautiful hair and and long beautiful fingernails and I wish I could marry Donny Osmond. Dear Diary, I wish I didn't have to wear these glasses and I wish I had long beautiful hair and long beautiful fingernails. Dear Diary, I hope the boys overseas in Viet Nam are safe-I pray for them every night. (Even then, I was concerned about war and its consequences.) And, I wish I had long beautiful hair and long beautiful fingernails. The hair and the nails were always a major theme.

I majored in English and thought I would be in the television or radio business. I did my college internship in the promotions department of my hometown's NBC affiliate. I wrote promo intoductions for television programs. When you heard the announcer say something catchy about the A-Team or The Yellow Rose, both popular shows in 1983, I usually wrote it.

My mother always encouraged me to write. I really don't think a week went by when she wouldn't say something to me about this. It was usually when I was entertaining her with a story that had happened to me and she would say, "Cookie, you really need to write a book or write some short stories." Of course, she was my biggest encourager.

When my daddy told me a few weeks before she died that I needed to prepare what I was going to write for her obituary I just couldn't even think about it. But, my daddy had been taking care of her for 16 months and he knew the end was near. I was still in denial. My sister, the consummate planner and researcher, had been in help mode since my mother's cancer resurfaced. My only job was to face the reality of my mother's death and write her obituary.

The weeks prior to her death we spent time with Mother, Daddy, the grandchildren, Mother's siblings, her mother, my daddy's siblings and many friends. When she died I sat down and began writing- my mother's obituary. To date -it is the single most important thing I have ever written. When I pick up the newspaper each day the first thing I read are the obituaries. Part of my daily ritual is going to The Decatur Daily, The Montgomery Advertiser and The Birmingham News. I sometimes even read the obits in The New York Times. I don't think of these as merely announcements that someone has died. I know what love and pain goes into these words. I think my mother would be pleased.