Mother's Day for me is now always a time of both joy and of sadness. On the one hand I celebrate the life of love that I received from my mother, Hazel Grosenbaugh, for over 80 years. But it is also a time of year I remember, with both sadness her death. In 1990, because I lived over 500 miles away from my mother and couldn't be with her, I sent her a nice arrangements of flowers in a crystal bowl with an attached balloon. I called her on that Sunday and she sounded OK and thanked me for the flowers. Five days later, however, on May 18, I got a call at my office from a good friend who informed me that Mom had passed away in her sleep. My father had died less than a year earlier and I envisioned her going to be with him. I imaged then that, after lying down from a busy day working at the senior center rummage sale, an angel came to her. I envisioned him saying: "It's time Hazel for you to be reunited with Louis", and she took his hand and passed into glory. I rushed home to make arrangements. When I got there the floral bouquet was still on the table. What I found was that mom had never removed the cardboard that protected the crystal vase and didn't know that I had sent her something special. How typical of a mother, making a big deal out of a present rather than asking why I had sent a cardboard box. The balloon with "Happy Mother's Day" was still full of helium so I took it outside and let it go to Heaven. As the gentle breeze carried the "Happy Mother's Day" balloon upward I said a tearful goodbye to a wonderful Mother and thanked God for putting my life in her care.
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