Mama's Place: In honor of my remarkable mother

Although we have never personally met, Dulcy Brasher at the Times Record and I know each other quite well. Over the past couple of years, via text and telephone, she and I have shared stories, stories that cut the niceties of becoming acquainted, to reveal our authentic selves. I sometimes share thoughts and feelings that I know she will understand. Likewise, I identify with experiences she shares with me.

Last month after submitting my column, I rediscovered a photo of my mother and my oldest grandchild, Evan. This photo always draws me into their faces for a reverie of Mother's remarkable life. As I gazed at the adoration between the great-grandmother and baby as they searched for each other's souls through loving eyes, I myself felt the effect of calmness and assurance that Mother had on others. Even though this was their first visit, Evan leaned back against her chest with arms out in the open position, completely relaxed as her two hands gently clasped his waist. As he leaned his head back and up to lock eyes with my mother, he found love and trust.

In a spontaneous burst of words, I texted Dulcy the following story that I now share with you.

This is my dear mother, Melba Louise Gilbreath Owens, and my first grandchild, Evan Kantilal Darji, in the spring of 2010. She was almost 86; he was four months old. Mother suffered a ruptured esophagus on March 6, 2007, and was unable to live alone the final five years of her life. My sister, Patricia O'Neal Owens Richmond, lived with her and was Mother's fashion designer and hair stylist. Sister created Mother's signature style, black slacks with a red or black loose-fitting jacket over a black or red top. Of course, coordinating accessories complemented each outfit.

Mother's hairstyle had been that of the Greatest Generation's mature matron – a short, permed-style, often resembling a bowl. Before the medical event, Hazel or Bobbie permed and styled Mother's hair; however, afterward, Mother did not go to the beauty shop. Sister became her stylist, creating the short, straight-style that covered Mother's receding hairline. I thought Mother was beautiful after Sister's magic touch, awed at how her devotion to Mother's appearance gave Mother self-confidence and brought compliments wherever we went.

Sister and I made quite a team as we cared for our mother. Each offered individual abilities and recognized the other's strengths and weaknesses. Isn't Mother lovely here? Thank you, Sister Patsy, for keeping her primped and styled. Did I say "thank you" before?

After Dulcy read the above story, I asked if it would be appropriate for Mother's Day, and so I share it with you this weekend to honor all mothers. Happy Mother's Day! My desire on this special day is to exude to all of humanity my mother's calmness, assurance, love, trust.

Louise Owens Finney is a retired secondary teacher and part-time minister in Fort Smith. She can be reached at louiseofinney@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Fort Smith Times Record: Mama's Place: In honor of my remarkable mother