A Piano and a Teddy Bear

Three years ago today, we were in the car. I was sitting in the backseat with my daughter, who at the time, was three months old. My husband was driving. We were going to Austin for a wedding. During one of my daughter's naps, I was just staring at her calm, sleeping face, thinking. And I thought of my mother's birthday, and I thought of how I she'd never get to meet my daughter or any of my future babies. And then I started crying.

My husband heard me crying from the driver's seat and he reached his hand back. I reached up and held it for a while. He didn't know why I was crying, and he didn't really need to. 

When I raise my children now and deal with their various problems and quirks, I think back to my own mother and the problems and quirks she put up with when I was a child. She used to bring me special toys in the car with her to pick me up from school because I would request something to play with during the car ride home. She would hear me whimpering at night and come to me because I was afraid of the dark and too scared to get out of bed to go get her myself. She took care of me when I was sick.

I never was able to truly understand these things until I became a mother myself because I was so young when I lost her. But I think these actions and services brought her joy as a mother. Because I know they bring me joy. When my daughter asks me to make a specific meal for her and then eats it. When she tells me her stories of the day at night before bed and recount what we did together. When she asks me to play with her and read her specific books. And some of the requests she asks for can get ridiculous and nonsensical. But I do it because they bring me joy. 

When my mother died, we were deciding what to put on her gravestone. We wanted to pick four images, one for each corner. The four images we chose were a piano, a Bible, praying hands, and a teddy bear.

The funeral director looked at us, the children, when we chose these images: Are these images to represent your mother or you? Normally the teddy bear goes on child gravestones.

I remember hearing her words and not really processing them. I don't remember anyone trying to justify the choices. To be honest, why should she have cared? 

Later when we shared with the rest of the family what we had chosen, my grandmother said something very poignant.

You guys did such a great job choosing images to represent your mother. the Bible and praying hands represented her faith. She loved listening and watching you play piano. And she loved watching you play with your stuffed animals. They brought her joy.

The piano and teddy bear did not represent her as a person, but they symbolized her role as a mother and the effect we had on her with our lives as well as our importance to her. I have no regrets about what is on her gravestone. Not once have I ever visited and thought to myself, it's strange to see a piano and a teddy bear.

Happy Birthday, Mommy.