©2000 Susan Noyes Anderson (poem only)
The day came when my mother’s brow
was creased with age and pain.
Her step was slow; her blue-veined hand
curled ‘round a walking cane.
The sparkle in her eye was there,
but other things were too––
the loneliness of life’s good-byes;
the struggles, old and new.
Her gaze was deep with wisdom;
years of love were in her eyes,
their corners marked with lines of laughter
age could not disguise…
But illness tried. Mom’s health had fled,
and now she needed me.
She asked for what she felt she must;
the rest I tried to see.
I brushed her hair and rubbed her hands
and soaked her swollen feet.
Sometimes, we’d picnic on her bed…
If I would read, she’d eat.
My independent mother
let me in so graciously,
and taught me more of service
than I ever thought to see.
Her giving had been selfless,
and that’s just how she received;
for every time I filled her cup,
my spirit was relieved.
Though suffering, she lifted me
in ways I cannot tell.
She knew she’d not recover,
knew she never would be well …
Yet every night I’d pass her room
and there, on bended knee,
my mom would bow her head and pray.
Not for herself … For me.
Tags: caretaking, charity, children, giving, grandmother, growing old, health, illness, LDS, love, Mormon, mother, mother's day, mothers, nurturing, parents, poem about aging, prayer, selflessness, service, suffering, wisdom, woman