To Marilyn

One of the first things I had to do as a teacher in a community building activity was to free write about a topic that was important to me. My mother had been dead less than a year, and it was on my mind that day. I wrote this 7 years ago and shared it with my co-workers.

My mother had an interesting way of saying all of her kids’ names. She had a beautiful quality all mothers do that made each of us kids feel like we were the most special person in the world. She spoke my Brother Seth’s name with brief authority. He was the oldest. She gave him an edge and the slightest bit more respect than the others. She spoke Todd’s name with a heart, understanding of the son who knew so much and would teach the rest of us that knowledge. Sometimes I still get a chill when I think about how my brother would say a joke or a funny story and she would sing so low in her throat, “oh, Todd!” She spoke Dion’s name with soft, slow tones. She always ended his name on a long note, almost as if to make him feel special that much longer. Not DEEon, but DeeOOON. Lori was her baby. Mom’s facial expression after saying Lori’s name was enough to make you cry. Mom lit up with anxious curiosity and would slide Lori’s name off her tongue in a twirl, like she was reciting poetry. When she spoke my name, oh, words can’t describe how I felt. When I hear “Ryan”, “Ryan”, it was as if she was breathing more life into me, as she first did 24 years ago. With her gone, it is hard to go with the thought that I’ll never hear her say our names again. However, I rest on the fact that I know, at any time I want, I can always say, mom.

Today would've been Mom's 55 birthday. Happy Birthday Mom.