She never wanted to let you go

?Growing up, I used to love following my mother around the house as she went about the business of being … a mother. If she was cooking, I was right there by her side, barely up to her kneecaps but honestly, I felt as though I was the most important part of the meal she was preparing. I can still smell the scent of the Faultless starch when her iron met a shirt, pair of pants, or whatever garment she was working on. I didn’t have the slightest idea as to what was going on with those soap operas that kept her eyes glued to the screen … but my little eyes were glued to the screen too.

I enjoyed all those things and more but the one thing I loved most was helping her usher my siblings out the door for school. “Have a good day … love you … be a good boy, be a good girl … behave” all of those things and so many more were spoken. The most exciting part was seeing that big yellow school bus, all bright and shiny rounding the corner. Watching my siblings and other kids from around the neighborhood dutifully boarding for the eight-hour adventure that was school … it was the most exciting part of the day … until it was my turn.

When I turned five and the time came for me to begin riding the bus, the same bus I was so fond of in years past, things changed. That yellow bus, all shiny and bright, the one that seemed so friendly just months before was now a monster. Even after all those times of seeing kids board and de-board, somehow in my mind I figured if I got on, I was never coming back.

So, that first day when the time came for her to speak all those motherly reminders and I found myself in the number, being marched out the door – I froze and broke down. “No worries, you can go tomorrow.” Tomorrow came and I did it again and this went on for the entire week. Each day she’d console me, telling me my sister and brothers liked school and I will too. During one of our conversations, she told me if I didn’t go to school, the police would take her to jail. Without hesitating for a second, I looked her dead in the eyes and said, “I’ll go with you.”

The next Monday my father stayed home a little bit later than normal. I thought it was odd but after a few moments, I was over it. We got dressed and hopped in the car. I figured we had this school thing settled and we were off to do family time – then the car stopped … right in front of the school. You see, I could get away with not going to school with my mother, but when I looked up at my father, dressed in a military combat uniform … I knew that was going to be my first day of school.

My teacher, Mrs. Wells was there to greet us. She spoke to my parents about things parents and teachers speak about and then the time came for me to go with her. My mother bent down and told me all the usual things she said as her kids went off to school only this time, there was a softness in her voice. This was going to be our first time apart, so she knew the stern, motherly tone she used on the others wasn’t necessary. I remember her tone, can hear it like just happened, but what I remember most is the hug. She hugged me so tight for what seemed like an eternity. She knew she had to leave, but I promise you, the way she held me that morning made me feel like she never wanted to let me go.

Here’s the part I love. Even though it happened all those lots and lots of years ago, I can still feel her embrace. Still feel the warmth of her skin on mine, the fragrance that had a name but took hers when she wore it. I still feel her silky hair resting gently on my face, her right hand is still on my head while her left gently stroked my back. She left the school that day and not long after, left this life. I asked God why she had to leave. He responded with a word that has filled my heart everyday including today. He said you can still feel the warmth of her skin, the smell of her fragrance, her hair, and her hands. He said that was my promise to her when I told her she was leaving … because she never wanted to let you go…

If you’re waking up this morning and your mother had to leave, if He had to call her home stop for a moment and think. Think about all the special things that made your mother yours. The softness of her voice, the warmth of her skin, and the strength and all the things only a mother can be. Those beautiful things remain – they’re a promise God made to her before she left …

Because she never wanted to let you go …