You came to me through your Son, quietly and gently. You let me know that the years I endured with my earthly mother meant something. That my suffering was not in vain and had a purpose.
The layers of hurt, rage and grief were carefully peeled away to expose the mother I had the potential to be. You placed a rosary in my hand to give me strength as I mothered my own children. You beckoned me to come to you, to get to know you, so that I wouldn't be afraid.
You prepared me and stood by me when the time came to take care of the earthly mother who seemed hell-bent on verbally abusing me to almost her last breath. I used to tell people I didn't know how I did it: taking care of my mother, my husband, three little kids, and two households. But I do know how. You and your Son never left my side.
There was a time, after my earthly mother died, that I was very angry. I wanted her punished! I wanted her to suffer for what she did to me! I wanted her to PAY!
I remember looking heavenward and shaking my fist to let your Son know I meant business on this and then I stopped. What did I want? Did I want her to go to hell? Did I want her to BURN? Did I want her to suffer in the afterlife as she made me suffer in this one?
And then I started to cry. I realized that would make me just like her. And by the miracle of faith, I wasn't. Not by a long shot.
Dearest Mother, you did that. You and your Son. Both of you on either side of me, walking with me, holding my hand, picking me up off the floor when I thought I couldn't face her yet again.
You stopped her words from coming out of my mouth to my own children and to this day you help me form words of faith, love and understanding whenever I speak to them.
Dearest Mother, what do you want for Mother's Day? What can I give you after all you've given me?