It's day 5 of the 30 day challenge to start my day a half hour early. This is my first weekend in this new program. I arose fairly early and by noon I had done a load of laundry, had breakfast, wiped down the counters, gone for gas and a whole load of groceries, put the groceries away, stripped the bed linens and had lunch. Usually I'd just start moving around 11 or 12.
Today I was reminded of one of my mother's sayings "Move along, Linda". She would say that mostly on Sunday mornings when she'd see me dawdling. How that "move along" comment would grate on me. But she was right. We were on a time schedule and with a family of four and one bathroom, there wasn't much time to drag one's feet.
Today is the birth date of that dear mama. She's been in Heaven for since 1996 but I still miss her. I love her and I"m grateful for all she's given me. I'd love to have her here with me when I'm tempted to say one more "move along".
My mother was a wonderful, creative woman with twinkling eyes. She loved her family, loved The Lord, loved other people.
Here are some photos from days gone by.
I got to thinking how when you lose someone it's like being without breath. You find it hard to go on. Then it's like being without electricity. You flick the switch out of habit, expecting it to be there. You pick up the phone to call your mother or make note of something to tell her but then you realize there's no power and you remember the loss. Then it's like the shelf you've removed from the wall. In your mind it's still there. You may even turn around to put something on it, but all that's left is the memory of it being there. Over time the love remains and she's there again. But now you know with certainty where she is, out of sight but just over yonder, where one day you'll meet again. You can almost see her.
Thank you, mom for all the love your gave me, all the sacrifices you made, all the wisdom you imparted, all the memories I have of the joy of being in our family.
Today I was reminded of one of my mother's sayings "Move along, Linda". She would say that mostly on Sunday mornings when she'd see me dawdling. How that "move along" comment would grate on me. But she was right. We were on a time schedule and with a family of four and one bathroom, there wasn't much time to drag one's feet.
Today is the birth date of that dear mama. She's been in Heaven for since 1996 but I still miss her. I love her and I"m grateful for all she's given me. I'd love to have her here with me when I'm tempted to say one more "move along".
My mother was a wonderful, creative woman with twinkling eyes. She loved her family, loved The Lord, loved other people.
Here are some photos from days gone by.
 |
| New Years Eve around 1957 at The Jacobson's home in Dickson City PA |
 |
| My, my mom, and my sister in the early 90's |
 |
| My sister, my mom and me in our backyard sometime in the early sixties |
 |
| Late Eighties at a Dickson City Primitive Methodist Luncheon honoring my dad. From left to right: Lloyd Sargent, Linda Goodrich Sargent Ralph Goodrich, Christine Goodrich, Ginger Goodrich |
 |
| Mom and Dad on the occasion of their 35th Anniversary, I believe Taken at Kirby Park in Wilkes Barre Pennsylvania |
Mom and Dad in the forties?
I got to thinking how when you lose someone it's like being without breath. You find it hard to go on. Then it's like being without electricity. You flick the switch out of habit, expecting it to be there. You pick up the phone to call your mother or make note of something to tell her but then you realize there's no power and you remember the loss. Then it's like the shelf you've removed from the wall. In your mind it's still there. You may even turn around to put something on it, but all that's left is the memory of it being there. Over time the love remains and she's there again. But now you know with certainty where she is, out of sight but just over yonder, where one day you'll meet again. You can almost see her.
Thank you, mom for all the love your gave me, all the sacrifices you made, all the wisdom you imparted, all the memories I have of the joy of being in our family.