Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my mama’s death.  As I sit down to write, I know that I am not the first and will not be the last to experience the indescribable loss that we feel when we lose our mothers.   I get it, and I think for all of us in this club, we can just tacitly nod and smile and know.   It’s hard.   I have cried, I have laughed, I have reflected, I have worried, but most of all I have come to the realization that my mama did a good job getting me ready to take my turn being the Mama.

My mama could do a lot of things.   She was really, really, really smart.  And she was super witty.   She could write, she could sew, she could cook, she could do math, she could organize, she trained our dogs, and she could solve just about any problem in the whole world.   She taught me to read before I went to kindergarten.   She was my girl scout troop leader.   She drove on every school field trip.  She was always the room mother.  She made my lunches every day.   She made costumes for an entire ballet company for multiple performances.  (That was for my sister, not me.  I was NOT the ballerina.)   She was the most productive and efficient mother in the history of mothers.

Mama taught me by her example to work hard, be resourceful, stand up for myself, get involved and give back.   Growing up,  I watched her do that every day.   As I approach the one year mark, I want to mark this day with joy – not tears.   I want to remember the mama who was my teacher and who got me ready for today and the rest of my days.   I want to remember the mama who

–  Let me walk all over my neighborhood,  when I was only six years old,  by myself,  in 40 degree weather,  in a Brownie uniform,  on a Saturday morning,  selling Girl Scout cookies – so that I could sell the most cookies in all of Florence.   Ya’ll know I won.  I have the newspaper clipping to prove it.

– Calmly wrapped my bleeding foot (cut almost in half by a neighbor with a really cool sword we should not have been playing with) in a towel and drove me to the hospital – singing to me while we had to stop and wait on a 15 minute train

–   Understood that when you gotta go, you gotta go and knew where every bathroom in South Carolina was located.   And that sometimes the woods is a bathroom and a sock is toilet paper

–   Joined a tennis mom posse with all my friend’s moms and drove us all over the South playing tennis for a lot of years

–  Threw her back out trying to do the “I’m a Pepper” kick while raking the back yard because we dared her to try it.

–  Ordered the entire beer truck – with the taps on the side – for our debutante summer party so we wouldn’t run out.   The drinking age was 18 back then, by the way.  We were all glad that she was in charge of that part of the party,  although she could have done it all.

–  Advised me, every time I was pregnant, to carry around a jar of pickles so that if my water broke in public I could just dash it on the ground and no one would notice

I have some really great memories of my mama.   While I will always miss her, and at times her absence is especially painful, I am focused more on what she gave me, not what I don’t have anymore.

My father is 80 years old and the epitome of good health.   Today, on the eve of the  anniversary of her death,  I had to take him to get a colonoscopy.   When the admissions person who was updating his information in the computer system said   “and Carol and Angie are your emergency contacts…”    he quietly said     “No, just Angie.”    That broke my heart and made me proud all at the same time.   My mama is gone, and we are sad, but I am ready.   I had him today.  And joyfully and gladly and capably just Angie was the mama.

After all, I am my mother’s daughter.   And how can I go wrong?  My mother was prepared for everything.   She even taught me that when you need to move, the liquor store always has boxes.   She has never been wrong.

We love and miss you, mama.