I wrote the following letter to the Times 26 years ago. It was about my dear sweet and very gentle Mom, written for Mother’s Day. Today with Mother’s Day fast approaching, I want to write one last letter.
My dear Mom turned 98 years old last November. I am now 72. A lot has happened in both our lives over the years, some bad, but most of the time good. Yet the thing that was always the same since the day I was born was our love for each other. So today as I write this, there are no words to describe the deep sorrow I have felt the past month, since on March 21 my gentle, beautiful Mom quietly passed away while I held her tiny hand for the last time.
While at the grocery store yesterday, I passed by all the gifts and cards and potted plants lining the shelves for Mother’s Day. I bought nothing because for the first time in my life I had no one to buy for. Mom is with God and I can’t bring her back. But her love and gentle spirit will remain with me forever. I will think about our years together and relive our special moments as beautiful memories. And as I picture her in my mind I will always see her sweet smile.
I love you, Mom!
Carole Jones
Morgan Hill
The following letter, also written by Jones, was published in the Morgan Hill Times May 23, 1989:
Mother’s Day has just passed, and of all the holidays the year presents it is the most important to me.
When I think about my dear Mom, the sweet memories go back to when I was a child and we lived in Los Gatos on Blossom Hill Road, when it truly was hills of blossoms.
My Mom and I would walk up the hill behind our house. She would bring our lunch and after our picnic I would pick handfuls of the tiny blue flowers that grew there to give to her. Thinking back, I’m sure that those flowers that looked so beautiful to me were probably nothing more than weeds. But my Mom would take the tiny blossoms and fuss over them as though they were bouquets of roses.
I remember watching her make clothes for my dolls, and the beautiful gowns of silk she would sew for my favorite doll with the long blond hair.
Sometimes we would play tea party together. We even had our pretend names. She was Mrs. Flannagan and I was Mrs. Gogenhiemer.
Another special memory of childhood is once, upon my return from Girl Scout camp, how surprised and happy I was to walk into my bedroom and find that she had completely redone it. There was fresh paint, lace curtains and lace covers on my dressers. It was all done in white. There was even a blue and white parakeet that I later named Fluff.
Those are just a few of my many memories that are so special because of my special Mom.
I’m 46 now, and realize more with each passing year how precious she is to me.
I guess the most unique thing about her is that I never remember her raising her voice or being unkind to anyone.
What Mother’s Day gift would a store carry that could possibly express the love and gratitude I feel toward my beautiful Mother for those 46 years of her devotion? I wound up with my usual. A potted plant.
But that was just a token. Our real gift to each other is simply our time. I see her once a week and this keeps us close so that we can continue to share our lives with one another. We talk on the phone more often. Sometimes our calls are brief, but they always end in “I love you.”
As I write this it occurs to me that it’s time to start getting ready for next Mother’s Day. I will start tonight with a phone call just to let her know I’m thinking of her.
For my Mom and I, every day is Mother’s Day because the one gift we have in abundance and can afford to give every day of the year is lots and lots of LOVE.
Carole Jones
Morgan Hill
