Wednesday, August 09, 2006

You Only Have One Mama

Some people are married to more than one person in a lifetime. Most married people have several children and at least a half dozen dogs in a lifetime. Some people are fortunate enough to have several real friends. Most of us have several really important people in our lives.

But you only have one Mama.

Mine was born Naia Gonzalez on July 5, 1917. She was the granddaughter of one of the first Spanish settlers of Fort Myers Florida.

Her dad, Clyde, died of a heart attack when he was 39 years old. He was sitting on the front porch when it happened. Mama was only 13 years old and she was on the porch with him that night. She would tell us later that she screamed and yelled as she ran to the doctor’s house down the street for help. The help she sought couldn’t help her dad.

That event was a defining moment in her life. She told all her children about that night many times. In our business, she also was able to help many other 13 year olds in life who had lost a parent.

She understood.

I loved my Mama. She was the best of the best. I know I’m biased but she was something else. She knew how to have fun and she knew how to get serious. She was completely involved in her children’s lives. And she was a praying Mom. I mean a down on your knees praying Mom. I’m convinced those Mama’s prayers saved my life a few times late at night during my college years.

Understand, she was not perfect and she never pretended to be. I think that’s what made her so great. She was just real.

One of my defining moments came about a little over a month from my 39th birthday. Mama was very sick. She had heart problems along with other medical problems. The doctor told us she would not make it. All of her children and spouses and grandchildren surrounded her for several days. The last couple of days we thought every breath would be her last.

She knew she was at the end of her earthly life.

The question that suddenly came out of her mouth could only come from the wife and mother of a bunch of undertakers: “Is Bruce going to embalm me when I die?” I was not in the room but the answer was something like I’m sure he will if that is want you want.

She died a couple of days later.

And I did it. I embalmed my Mama. I prepared her body for burial. Talk about defining moments.

I was doing okay in the preparation room until I looked in her eyes. Those were the most familiar eyes I have ever known. It dawned on me that I had first begun to look in those eyes when she rocked me as a baby and I had never stopped looking into them.

I wept more at that moment than I had all my life added together. It was uncontrollable weeping. I got it all out right there. All the love I felt for my one Mama came out right there from the innermost part of my being.

It was a defining moment in my life. For the first time I think I understood how much I loved my Mama.

And I was able to get a much better understanding of how others loved their Mama when they were in my care at the funeral home.

From that moment on I became much better at what I did for a living.

I also made up my mind that day that though she was dead physically, she would never die in me. If I have had 1200 speaking engagements to date, I have talked about my Mama 1200 times.

By the way, she died on August 9, 1993. Exactly 13 years ago today.

If your mom is still alive, find her today. Look in those familiar eyes if you can. If not, at least give her a call.

And tell her how much you love her.

You only have one Mama.

2 comments:

Christy said...

Great post! You make some good points.

No matter when or under what circumstances, when one loses their "Mama" it knocks you to your knees, takes the wind out of your sails.

Connie Langford said...

I wish I could stop crying so I could see to type this...it is beautiful and your mama's heart would be bursting with love and pride if she read this!
Bruce, your tender words and your unashamedly honest emotions touched that place in me that most often stays tucked away. Maybe that place was a bit more open today from stopping by my mother's grave yesterday to leave a few shells from my recent trip to the beach - the one she, my sister and I went on every summer. I was with my mother when she took her last breath, just me. In those last minutes we just stared into each other's eyes...those dark brown eyes that she passed on to me...the eyes that let me know when she was happy or sad or excited - or mad! It was, and is, the most poignant moment in my life. Yes, she is in me and she will live on in me, and my son and his son....
It was my GREATEST PAIN - and my greatest privilege, to look into those eyes as she drifted out of this life and looked into the eyes of Jesus.
(I'm so glad I didn't have to embalming her!)