May 12, 2024

Arthur H. Gunther III

The world did not, cannot, will not exist without mothers. They bring life and add to the soul that is within; they nurture; they suffer; they are a mix of joy and tears, fears and hope; they are the flowers that reappear in spring after harsh winter. They are reaffirming. They are renewal.

     Some moms – too many – carry burden in life from war, abuse, affliction. They cannot offer full guidance. Yet they are mothers, and that is their distinction, with collective provenance back to the beginning of women. They give though they are in pain.

     Fathers feel it when sons and daughters leave, but they go on with tasks. Moms feel beyond that as the umbilical cord always stretches; it is only physically disconnected. With instinct they know when a child, now adult, is hurting. Or when there is happiness. The language between mom and offspring, no matter the age, is largely unspoken beyond the hug, the kiss on the cheek. If unuttered sentences were to be transcribed, whole books would be written.

     A mother remains one beyond her passing, and no daughter or son need look at her photograph to feel her presence – the recalled voice, the mannerism you now have that she had, the quirks too.  

     No man can ever give to humanity as much as a mother; it’s a gift that keeps on giving.

     Happy Mother’s Day.

     The writer is a retired newspaperman.