As Mother’s Day arrives without my mom, I take comfort from the memories of her — photos, her catchphrases that I repeat almost every day and especially 10 voicemail messages stored on my phone. They are audio reminders of her sense of humor, her flair for the dramatic and, most importantly, her outsize love for me.
Recently, I called a friend to chat after a long absence, and she responded by asking me to text her first. She later posted on social media that texts should be the first line of communication, and her friends all agreed. Some made jokes about rambling voicemails from their mothers and asked, “Why can’t she just text like everyone else?” I responded: “She isn’t like everyone else! She is your mother.”
It is difficult to explain to someone just how important those calls and voicemails will become to them when their mother dies. I miss my mom’s unscheduled calls. While she often had something to discuss, mostly she just wanted to know how my day was or if my husband had a joke for her, which he always managed to deliver. Unfortunately, as she got older, especially in those final months, the calls were more serious. They always ended with her telling me how much she loved me.
On the rare occasion we failed to connect, my mother always left a message. Some of the messages were simple: “Janet, it’s your mother.” (Like I wouldn’t know that.) “Call me.” Some were more complicated. One of the messages I saved was on the day I was flying cross-country to be with her in the hospital. She wanted me to know that she was being taken to the operating room and wished me a safe flight.
There are two happy birthday messages. On them, she sings, relives the day I was born and finishes with her signature signoff: “Anyway, that’s my story, call me.”
It has been seven years, and not a day goes by when I do not wish for the phone to ring and hear my mother’s voice on the other end.
So, this Mother’s Day, if you are lucky enough to still have your mother in your life, tell her she can call you as often as she likes and if you don’t pick up, she should leave a message.
— Janet Williams, Chicago
Blessed to share final moments
From my high school newspaper reporting days a half century ago, I’ve thought of myself as a writer. Still, it took years to hit on a compact phrase I thought worthy of my mom, Helen: world-class mother. And she was — Hollywood looks without the ego, cooking, cleaning, shoveling snow and mowing the lawn in a pinch. She was always happy with the basics and eternally patient with me, never too busy to drop whatever she was doing and listen to her only child’s problems, although, of course, she had her own. And that sympathetic hearing went on long after I became an adult, I have to admit.
So it felt like an honor and a blessing to be with her at the end in 2021, holding her hand when she passed away in a sedated sleep at the retirement home, just the two of us. We were together when she brought me into the world, and together when I saw her out. How fitting that seems, and every year, not just on such occasions as Mother’s Day, I think of that.
If you the reader were half as fortunate as I in terms of the parental draw, you’ll also be blessed to share your mother’s last moments. And recall then all the sacrifices and service on her part that make such a small compensatory vigil as this significant.
— Tom Gregg, Niles
Mother never had the chance
With Mother’s Day, we will hear all the accolades for all the mothers who did it all. Raised great kids while working, cheerleading while the family went through hard times and happy times, doing the best they could in sickness and in health, putting everyone first before themselves.
My mother was one of the many moms who never had the chance. My mother died young, 49 years old. She wasn’t there for any of the games, plays, proms or graduations. She missed the first dates, the broken hearts and every Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. She didn’t see the bride, the groom or any of the grandchildren she probably had dreamed of.
Yet I still think of her everyday and all that she missed because she never had the chance.
— Sue Atkenson, Frankfort
Invaluable role mothers play
Mothers shape not only the family unit but also society as a whole. The role of a mother extends far beyond physical care and nurturing; it encompasses spiritual guidance, moral upbringing and emotional support.
There is a unique bond between a mother and her child, a bond characterized by unconditional love, selflessness and sacrifice. Mothers are willing to endure any hardship, make any sacrifice and bear any burden for the sake of their children’s well-being and happiness.
Mother’s Day is a reminder to honor and cherish parents unconditionally, recognizing the invaluable role they play in our lives.
In the Islamic tradition, paradise lies beneath the feet of mothers, signifying the immense rewards and blessings associated with honoring and serving one’s mother. By respecting and loving our moms, we are making our communities better and kinder places to live.
— Samreen Farooq, Oshkosh, Wisconsin
An essential and difficult job
Only a fool will argue that motherhood is not the world’s toughest job. I have only to set the way-back machine to watch my mom raising twins and a brother who was older by a mere 15 months, which essentially meant triplets, in an era absent Pampers and microwaves. We brothers three tumbled down the stairs around her ankles like puppies from our third-floor apartment, then hung off the fenders of her boneshaker bike to make trips to the market. And so, in honor of all the moms out there doing the world’s most important, difficult and rewarding job, I offer the following, dedicated, of course, to the memory of my own cherished and beautiful mother.
Where would any of us be without our moms? They showed us love before anyone else. They dried our tears, bandaged our knees, kissed our bruises, tucked us in, sang to us, read to us, and made us eat our peas but also gave us dimes when the Good Humor truck came by. They made us do our homework but let us turn on “The Beverly Hillbillies” when that arithmetic problem became too much to bear. They doubled our victories by sharing them with us, and halved our defeats with a hug and a promise that you did your best and next time would be different.
They were there to help pick up the pieces when someone broke our hearts and were happier than anyone else when our hearts shined their very brightest.
— Rob Hirsh, Chicago
Chicago needs a bus station
Rather than waste taxpayer money on building the Bears a new stadium, I would prefer to see the city spend such money on a new bus station. A bus station is something that is used by many residents of the city (and state), and it is urgently needed.
— Peter Felitti, Chicago
The invasion of the cicadas
While walking the dog recently in our local forest preserve, we heard eerie sounds echoing through the trees. Obviously, it sent an uncomfortable shiver up and down our spines.
Though it’s not yet official, it would seem the cicada season has now begun, or unidentified flying objects are now present in the northwest suburbs.
But either way, be very, very afraid.
— Bob Ory, Elgin
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