Hopefully, everyone will remember to take a moment to honor your mother this Mother’s Day, Sunday, May 11.

Those of you fortunate enough to still have your mother, I hope you take the time to call her, go visit her, or better yet, bring her to your home for a celebration she deserves. Don’t rush it. Give her all the time she wants.

Those of us that no longer get to talk with or visit our moms, we can tell you once she’s gone, you will never have the opportunity to tell her and show her what she means to you – ever again.

How many of you know how Mother’s Day became a national holiday? I didn’t know the real story until I was researching the holiday earlier this week and came across an article by J.C. Bruce in Florida Weekly. The tale is full of heartbreak, love and irony.

Anna Jarvis created the idea of Mother’s Day and, later, tried to end the celebration because it became too commercialized.

Jarvis was one of 13 children. All but four of the children died from diphtheria, measles and other dreadful childhood diseases. Anna’s mother liked the idea of a day of celebration for mothers so Anna started a successful campaign to fulfill her mother’s dream. In 1914, Woodrow Wilson issued a Proclamation declaring the first national Mother’s Day.

In Anna’s mind, this would be a day of quiet celebration, honoring the woman that raised her. But the holiday became wildly popular. Florists, candy companies and greeting card makers found a way to profit from the holiday – much to Anna’s chagrin. She became so incensed about the commercialization of her holiday that she launched a petition to have Mother’s Day rescinded. She was attempting to undo her own holiday when she fell ill and was sent to a sanatorium, where she eventually passed away. Ironically, it was contributions from the candy companies, florists and greeting card manufacturers that helped pay her medical expenses.

Why did Anna Jarvis select the second Sunday in May for Mother’s Day? Because that’s the day her mother died.

My mother and father had five kids – I was kid No. 4. Just having five kids should earn you sainthood points. She was a great mom. Mostly a stay-at-home mom until my brother and I were in junior high. She was a great cook (even with a small budget), kept the house immaculate (with our help), kept our clothes clean and, somehow, she knew what we had done before we would even get home from doing it.

Her relationship with my three older sisters had a much different dynamic than what she had with my brother and I. Even into their adult lives, she needed to talk to each of them at least once a day – if not more often. We never had that connection and I’m okay with that. I wouldn’t have enough interesting things to talk about on a daily basis.

When I was a senior at GBHS, she contracted Encephalitis from a mosquito and nearly didn’t pull through. That was scary. Later in life she became septic following a surgery and nearly didn’t survive. Cancer tried to get her but she beat that, too. She showed on many occasions just how tough she really was. Other times she would cry all day for no apparent reason. Mothers can be mysterious beings.

After my dad died, we all expected her to follow right behind but she didn’t give up. She had her moments. My sisters or brother could always seem to talk her down. When it came to the point she couldn’t stay by herself any longer she moved in with a sister. After falling a few times, it was time to move to a nursing home. It was at this point where my wife and I became more of her advocate, her protector if you will, showing up daily to her room to make sure the nursing staff saw us there and to make sure she was being taken care of properly. We became closer than we ever had been before.

When we moved from Colorado to Pratt in 2017, we found a facility that suited her so we brought her back with us. It made her happy that we wanted her around. She reminded me at the time she believed Tammy and I would be the ones to take care of her. I’m glad it was us. She died shortly before Thanksgiving that same year. Things have been much different since she’s been gone.

She loved her family. She loved our families. We all loved her and we all miss her.

I will never be able to tell her Happy Mother’s Day again and I miss that.

If you still have a mother here on this earth, tell her you love her. Tell her Happy Mother’s Day. There will come a day when you won’t be able to.

 — Keith Lippoldt