In thanks

We used to go for Sunday drives...just for fun.
I didn't mind.
I loved having the window down and feeling my hair blow around my face. 
The radio would be playing some country song and you would be doing that humming/singing combination you always did. 
Every once and awhile you would tell me about what used to be fields before all those houses went in. 
I'm not sure if I ever told you, but I loved hearing your stories.
It made me feel connected to something.

One day we ended up in the cemetary where you now live.
We visited the gravestones of family you had not seen since you were my age.  You re-told me stories about who they all were and where they lived or what they did.
Then we stopped by to visit your husband and son.
You always got quiet when we visited them.
I wondered how it felt to see the stone with your son's name on it.
Not because I wanted to know, but I wanted to know how you did it.
I never realized just how strong you were until the first time I held my own little guy.

That same day we drove to new places you had never taken me before.  You told me about the tobacco farm your grandfather owned.  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what the land looked like without Rt 30 running through it and beside it.

I wondered what it was like for you as a child, playing on that farm.  What was it like to visit your grandparents for Sunday dinner after church?  What were you like as a child?

There are some questions I never got to ask you.
Like how it felt to not know your father.  Were you ever teased because of it?  Was it hard for you? 
You never let on that your stepfather treated you differently.  Or that the four brothers that followed were somehow treated better.  It seemed that you all loved each other. 
Or how it felt to know that your daughter was not a good mother.  Did you ever question taking me in?  Was that hard for you?  You never acted like it was.  You just loved me.

It's Mother's Day.

But I don't just think of you today.
There isn't a minute that goes by that you aren't somewhere in my thoughts.
The hole that's been in my chest since you've been gone is still there.  I guess I just learned how to live with it.

Sometimes I wonder what you would think about how my life turned out up until now.  But then I remember that you were proud of me no matter what I did.  You trusted my judgement and that helps me realize that I'll be okay.

I don't know if there are words enough to describe just how thankful I am.  You were the first person to ever make me feel wanted, or loved.  And I can only hope that I can be half the mother to my son, that you were to me.

I love you, Nan.
Happy Mother's Day.