It is early, in the wee hours of the morning. The sky is dark, the house is quiet and I am awake. I am in discomfort (polite way of saying I hurt like the dickens). I have left the big dogs out and back in and they are curled back up in their favorite spots.
Normally, on nights like this I go to my recliner in the family room and wrap up in my snuggie (yes, I have and I love it) and I will read, write or play games until the pain recedes enough for me to sleep. Tonight, I went to the living room couch.
Here I hear, the tick tock of my mom’s clock and the chime on the quarter, half and hour. My mom had two of these hanging clocks. She upgraded and kept the old one. One had parts that moved and almost danced and you could choose the songs. She had, “My Heart Will Go On”. People when they first saw this movement would be in awe. My grandson Peyton, would stop whatever he was doing to watch this.
I didn’t get that clock, I got the older clock that had been regulated to the computer room/Costco annex once known as my brother’s room. Mom didn’t grt rid of it but hung it back in this small room. So it was a harmony or a discord depending on your opinion of clocks in the house. The anniversary clock which I also now have was not always wound and set, so you didn’t always get that additional harmony.
This clock weighs a ton. We carefully packed it when we drove back from Washington with a moving van of my mom’s things. It works beautifully. It was the clock from my childhood. It makes me think of home, not the nightmarish parts but the healing times. The moments with my mom. Hearing her start to use the words “I love you” to me in my adult life. Having her joke with Ron and finally accept him and tell me I had a good man. The times with Pat and Nick as little boys than young men. Being there as an adult in her last year and hearing that clock and realizing how precious time is.
It chimed a bit ago and I smiled. Through that clock, I have a piece of the momma. I missed her in a lots of ways as a child but as an adult we learned and forged a relationship. Many never have a second chance or if they do, they don’t embrace it. Maybe it is due to pride, stubborness, hurt or hardened hearts. Because of my faith, I was able to forgive.
I was able to forgive all the real hurts and the perceived hurts. I was able to move forward. Mom and I didnt have a lot in common. I liked to read, she hated it. She was a pessimist, I tried to be more upbeat. She smoked at one time, I hate smoking. I was more social, she was more a loner. I was a person of faith, she was not.
But she had strength. She raised three children on her own for eight years. She had a child she gave up for adoption at 14. Had me at 17. She held only one job in her lifetime; and that was working at the family funeral home. She started there at 17 and worked there until her health forced her to sell the business.
The clock is still ticking behind me. Rthymic, steady, and soothing. There is a peace to that sound. A lulling quality. I have my faith, my relationship with God that is that centering for me. His rythm resides in me. Just as that clock sooths me and reminds me of my momma, I have something more that does that–my God.
I regret that my mom, to the best of my knowledge, never knew that soothing rythm and peace that comes from knowing God. I guess that is why I work harder now, I don’t want another person to miss out on knowing Him.
Clock is soon going to chime, I will listen than back to bed for a few more hours sleep before my little girl wakes up. Tick tock….