One of the phrases I remember hearing most from Momma, other than “I love you”, was “once a mother, always a mother.” I will so miss hearing her say those words to me. 

Momma didn’t just say those words. She lived them...in such beautiful (and sometimes frustrating) ways. 

I remember being about 13 years old. Momma would drive me over to Louisville for music lessons and rehearsals multiple times each week. And at least once a week, she would see a car down the street, usually about three lights away, and she would slam her arm in front of me to make sure I was not about to cross the street yet. I’d give her that look that only teenage girls can give, and say, “Mom, I’ve got it.” She’d return my look with that look that only moms of teenage girls can give, and say, “I know, Ab. But once a mother, always a mother. I love you.”

In high school, as I would get ready to leave the house for whatever rehearsal, performance, or class was on the schedule for that day, she’d always ask me if I had everything I needed. She would ask about each individual item. Homework. Yes, Mom. Change of clothes for rehearsal. Yes, Mom. Dance shoes. Yes, Mom. Costumes. Yes, Mom. Snacks so you don’t get hungry. Yes, Mom. And as soon as she could tell I was beginning to get impatient, I’d hear those words. “I know, Ab. But once a mother, always a mother. I love you.”

In college, as I would be driving the 3 hour drive back to school, she would ask me to call her to let her know I made it safely. And inevitably I would forget to call. But somehow she would always know when I’d been back for about 30 minutes. I would hear the phone ring, and I wouldn’t even have to say hello when I answered. I always knew it was her. “Hi Momma. Sorry I didn’t call. I’m safe.” “I know, Ab. But once a mother, always a mother. I love you.”

On the day I became a mother myself, after giving birth to our oldest, Momma came into the birthing room to check on me. Through tears I said, “I did it, Momma. I did it.” She smiled, kissed me, and said, “I know, Ab. I knew you could. I’m so proud of you. Now it’s your turn. Once a mother, always a mother. I love you.”

Momma would find ways to love on all of us every single day. Phone calls. Texts. Packages. Cards. Frozen meals for the crockpot. Keeping our kiddos. Hosting holidays. Organizing anything and everything we would let her get her hands on. The list is unending. And her reasoning was always, “once a mother, always a mother. I love you.” 

Even when she was in the hospital with fevers, pain, and low oxygen levels, she would try to kick me out around 4pm every day. She would say, “You get home before it gets dark and you get stuck in traffic.” I’d give her that look that only worried daughters can give, and say, “Mom, I’ve got it.” She’d return my look with that look that only loving mommas can give, and say, “I know, Ab. But once a mother, always a mother. I love you.”

Momma, I will forever miss hearing you say those words to me. And I know you told me that I can do this. That you’re ok and that I’ve got it. And you’re right. I know, Momma. But once a daughter, always a daughter. I miss you so terribly. I love you.