I found this as I was back home cleaning out my mom’s house.
August 28, 2001
A Mother’s Touch
I have had this in my mind for sometime and will attempt to put it on paper. Here goes.
My mothers touch to me was so much. I say was. My mom died September 23, 1990. Sometimes when I am still and quiet, it is still there.
Essie Maude Black Bailey. Mother, daughter, wife, sister, she has so many more titles.
She was born in Alabama July 9, 1918. A southern lady, born to a loving Mama and Papa. The oldest of eight. To some a hard life, not to her. Mom loves family. God, family the most important things in the world. Her Papa died young. Thirty something, of a tooth infection.
She had to step in with her oldest sister to make a living. At the time of her Papa’s death, she was fourteen. Her Mama has eight kids to feed, clothe and care for, from fourteen to two months. Mama picked cotton, she also had to quit school in the eighth grade. She never had a driver’s license, but did drive when absolutely necessary. Also never had a birth certificate, all of her siblings and Mama were born at home. I loved hearing her stories. They must have been her treasures.
The reason I am writing this down is because I surely do wish she had of, but it’s never too late right.
My Mother’s touch, I miss it every day. Mother was a basic woman. Never needy, she had six children, when I came along. The baby of the family, the youngest of her clan. Oh what a joy to be the baby. When I was born my mom was thirty-six. That was in 1954. She had really two families. My oldest brother is twenty-seven years older than I am. There is four in the first group and then seven years difference in the next daughter. My mom never worked outside the home, except for helping delivering newspapers. I was along for that. A lady my Mom knew had a paper route, my Mom and I would go with her, I would roll, and they would throw.
She could stretch a dollar for a week. Always had money, not a lot, but would ask everytime, after I was out on my own do you need any money.
My Mother’s touch, oh how I miss it. Her touch was not just physical. Her touch was in everything, and everyone around. She had probably been cooking since the age of seven. Not with gas, or electricity, but on a wood stove. She was a very good cook. Nothing gourmet or fancy, but lots of it and very good.
When her touch was physical, oh how tender, sweet and caring. She was a kisser and a hugger. You were always told you were loved.
My mom died of a brain tumor. She had it for a long time. There was no drama when they told her. She knew she was going home. Heaven. Mom had had her share of death. She died before she lost any of her children. Thank you God!
My Mom lives on in her children, and their children. Mom died in September and my son was born in December. He has her smile and laughter. She must have known she would not see or meet him here on Earth, she kept hearing him cry, and was sad when told it was not him yet. Her words him. My Mother’s touch lives on in my son because I believe she held him before I did.
I miss her a lot!
I love you Mom! Thank you for your touch. Judy