Since Mama has been on my mind so much, I just realized I had never explained where the name of my blog came from. Some of you know but others have asked about it. After my Mom died, my brother-in-law heard us going through her jewelry. We were looking for the pearls my oldest sister Ann had given her years before (we never found them as they had "mysteriously" disappeared).I gave Page a strand of her pearls(not the ones my sister gave her) and she learned how to clean and re-string them. My brother-in-law wrote the following poem that was read at her Memorial and I had the poem handwritten by a friend of my younger sister's. I had my copy framed and it hangs right inside my bathroom door which is very appropriate as I used my money from the sale of her house to do some work on the house including the bathroom. Enjoy.
Belma’s Pearls
Pearls are precious and very rare,
They need attention and lots of care.
One who owns them has a special prize,
Gifts of beauty in the beholder’s eyes.
Belma owned very few pearls,
But her precious things were many.
Belma owned five little girls
And they gave her joys aplenty.
Belma didn’t want to die,
Not for love of this world.
But Belma didn’t want to say goodbye
Because it meant leaving her little girls.
She loved them all and none not more,
She loved them all the same.
Every single one she adored,
She treasured every name.
She kept mementoes of each of them,
She followed their careers.
She showed special love to their chosen men,
She shared their joys and tears.
She stood up for them the best she could,
Loving them through all.
She cared for them like a mother should,
Allowing none of them to fall.
Belma died the other night
And left her little girls.
But not before she made things right,
With all her precious pearls.
Perhaps some day they’ll meet again;
Now wouldn’t that be fine?
To grab ahold to each little hand,
That Belma left behind.
I think about Mama every day and I'm sure most of my family does also. She was a very special lady who was loved by many. I look forward to the day I meet her again with no more sickness and pain. Love you Mama...
She was a special woman. The poem made my cry.
ReplyDeleteIt made me cry too - but most of the time it makes me smile. This time of year I guess.
ReplyDeleteThe resurrection what a happy time that will be!
ReplyDelete