Love shouldn't take a day off
SEPTEMBER 9, 2024
BY MIKE TUPA
BARTLESVILLE AREA SPORTS REPORT
Many years ago — prior to my transfer to Bartlesville — I received a remarkable letter from a grieving mother.
Prompting her to write me was a column I had written entitled “A gift of time.”
I had mentioned how my mom had taken a job as a cleaning lady for $1.60 an hour with no health benefits — a pretty poor salary even in the late 1960s — to support my sister and I.
It was a tough go. She refused to apply for free lunch tickets at school or for welfare. She believed people had a responsibility to provide for themselves, if at all possible.
She rejected the temptation to hate my dad and to let bitterness rule her heart. She wanted her children to have a positive attitude about life and to feel their father wasn’t a horrible man, because she knew the psychological impact it would have on us if we gave into hate and pity.
In fact she felt sorry for him in some ways.
She spoke about the things he had missed. I wrote in the column: “He wasn’t there to see me play Gandalf the Wizard in our junior high rendition of ‘The Hobbit,’; he wasn’t there to see my sister get her first job … he wasn’t there to see us graduate from high school.”
But, mom was there. She supported us in our activities, bolstered our egos, helped us to believe we were as good as anyone else and that we had the ability to make our dreams come true.
With her, I probably never would have become a newspaper writer; if so, my life would have been infinitely less meaningful.
Toward the end of this column I advised the readers that “children are the most important things you have. Everything else is going to rust or fade or deteriorate. But, the bond parents create with their children while they’re young will only grow stronger with age.”
I concluded with: “Time goes so quickly. The sands of time are running out on your children’s youth. Please try to catch the last fleeting moments before it’s too late.”
I was unprepared for a letter from a parent with whom my column had resonated in a very personal way.
She related to me the death of one of her two children.
“We miss our child,” she wrote. “There’s no more Sports Events, etc. My beautiful son David was a honor roll student and senior … when one foggy Tuesday he went out the door and never returned.
“My guilt wasn’t that I didn’t attend his sports events, or P.T.A. meetings, or whatever event my son or daughter was in at church. It was I didn’t hug him or tell him that I loved him when he went out the door for the last time. … I never knew he wouldn’t return.”
She then shared some of her observations at her son’s funeral: “Always hug your child and tell them you love them every day — don’t wait till night time like my children and I did. … Do it before bedtime, do it every morning when they go into their car. … Say a prayer that they will make it home safe.”
She finished with: “Be there when your child needs you — Because someday it might be too late. …Always will be Proud to be David’s Mother.”
As I review my column and her letter, I’ve changed one opinion. I had written how nice it was that parents attend their children’s games and events. But I’ve come to believe that even if a parent isn’t present at all the activities, that’s not the most important thing. The most important thing, in my opinion, is your child knows you love them for you and what they are, beyond their games and events.
My mom had to work nights at her job and missed some stuff — but my sister and I never doubted we were unconditionally the most important priority in her heart. That assurance provided an emotional quilt of security and confidence she would love us always.
When she couldn’t be at an event, it was just as fun for us to share with childish enthusiasm and embellishment afterward with our experiences and small triumphs.
One experience stands out. I came home late one Friday night with a broken heart after a date with a special girl had not gone as well as I counted on; mom was still up, as she typically was when my sister and I came home from dates. She knew I had to get up around 4:30 a.m. to go and clean some offices for one of my part-time jobs. I still felt disconsolate when I arose to get ready. But mom also got up, dressed, and went with me to help me in my sadness to get through my job quicker.
Mom has been gone now for 34 years. I still feel her love for my sister and me.
As for David’s mother, I share her mourning. I share the mourning of all that have lost a child. I pray these parents reflect on good memories and faith that will help them endure with gratitude and hope for the many lonely years.
