Dear Mom,

When it comes to knowing how to give and how to love, you’ve always been a true inspiration.  Your love and faith have been at the heart of our family.  Your unselfish acts have been a reflection of your kindness and caring.  The strength you give has been the bond that keeps us close.  The little things you do with all the love in your heart have made such a difference.  No matter what, your love is always there, and on your birthday and always, may you know how much you are loved. 

A poem – from my heart to yours.

On July twelfth nineteen hundred and twenty-two

God placed a miracle here on earth, and that miracle is you.

He knew that twenty nine years later; in July of nineteen fifty-one

A newborn little girl would one day see what He had done;

And through the years I realized the miracle God had given me

The miracle of my mother, whom He created perfectly.

A mother who taught me of love and faith and trust and hope;

My very special angel who taught me how to cope.

What a blessing I was given; a mother who’s also my friend;

A very special woman filled with a love that has no end.

I thank you for the many prayers

You’ve whispered throughout the years;

Each and every one was answered

God heard you through the tears.

(One month after God took you from us)

Dear Jerry,

I remember when you were born,

It was 12:13 in the early morn.

I remember when you were one;

Watching your actions was so much fun.

And the year when you were only two,

You looked at me sweetly and said, “I love you.”

Then came the year that you turned three;

There were so many thing you wanted to be.

I remember when you were four;

You said you tied a cow to the door!

And the precious year when you turned five;

You showed me your bug zoo, and I said, “Sakes alive!”

And the wonderful year when you were six;

There wasn’t anything in our house you couldn’t fix.

I especially loved when you were seven;

You asked, “Does God have a telephone in Heaven?”

Then before we knew it, you turned eight;

You were a cowboy that year and you thought it was great!

I love to recall the year you were nine;

When you made me a card that read: Be My Valentine.

You played on a soccer team when you were ten;

Kicking those goalies again and again.

And when you were eleven you let everyone know;

That the greatest author was your Aunt Jo.

Then you turned twelve and it was plain to see;

The closeness that had grown between you and me.

Then you became a teenager and at age thirteen;

Fashion clothes and spiked hair became the scene.

At age fourteen you were going through the phase;

Of trying so many new and different ways.

You got your first job when you were fifteen;

I was bursting with pride from all that I’d seen.

Perhaps the fondest year I love to recall

Was when you were sixteen and you got a call;

It was a Friday night and you told your friend,

“I got other plans,”

And I was your plan till the evening’s end.

When you were seventeen, it was fishing and boats

And the one’s you hooked;

You bragged like a fisherman about the

Bass, perch and snook.

And by age eighteen

Your plans were so big;

You became a disc jockey

With gig after gig.

Then at age nineteen you were taken away;

Just when all in your life was going your way.

Now I’m left with the wonderment

Of what might have been;

Asking myself again and again,

Why did this happen?

Why was it you?

Precious child above, what will I do?

Signed with all my love,

“Mommy Number Two.”