I was going to make that visit,
had finally made up my mind;
Just had to adjust my schedule,
Surely, for her a day I could find.
All else would need to be put aside.
My anxious heart was all aglow;
I loved this woman so very much,
It was time now to let her know.
Yes, this date was so long overdue.
There were many things I had to say,
Of how special she was to me, and
How she loved and cared for me each day.
I would take her bright yellow roses,
Arrive there at early morning dew,
Give her the card I had written of
The many ways to say “I love you.”
I was going to ask forgiveness
For sins against her in my past;
Of times I had hurt her badly,
Then make it all right at last.
I would tell her how wrong I was for
Causing her to worry late at night;
I would bow and gently kiss her, then
Hold her to me and hug her so tight!
I would look deeply into her eyes,
Thank her for the many ways
She had brought me joy and happiness
Brightening up my sullen days.
I could see us then, sitting for hours,
Reminiscing on the years gone by,
Laughing at silly old photographs,
Pausing at ones that might make us cry.
I was going to thank her for her
Patience toward my old stray dog and cat,
For fixing pancakes and rice pudding,
And making me her little spoiled brat.
I would say, “I deserved the spankings
For my many mischievous ways,”
And that I loved the stories she told
Of her life back in the good ole days.
I would thank her for the many prayers,
For singing me sweet songs in the night,
For taking me to church on Sundays,
And making sure I turned out alright.
I would then thank her for loving me,
And of how she always found the time
To make me feel like a million bucks,
Though I wasn’t worth a dirty dime.
Yes, there were so many other things
To my mom I’d planned to say,
So I made the final arrangements
Scheduling tomorrow to be her day!
I just don’t know why I put it off,
It is true: “Time waits for no man.”
Once a day has been all used up,
We will never have it back again.
So, I reached for the phone to call her,
My joy, I could hardly withhold;
But my phone rang with this message
And it made my blood run cold . . .
“Son, it’s your mother . . .,” the caller said,
“I’m so very sorry, but she’s dead . . .
She passed a few moments ago.”