Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

May 12, 2007

Today’s Announcements

 I am sorry for the delays in getting the newsletters out, please bear with me.  I am doing a writing assignment that has a deadline and so I had to make that project a priority.

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Today’s Stories

~**~**~

WE NEVER KNOW

 Sharon Bryant

He didn't think for a moment about not getting her a gift.  He always chose something special for her in all these past years.

He never dreamed his life would change because of her.

He never thought about the career he choose and how one day it would rip his heart out.

He got the call, "Your mom has died."  Stunned, he put the phone down, then sat down and cried his eyes out.

He had just bought her Mother's Day gift.

He never dreamed that one day it would be up to him to transport his mother to the funeral parlor, the same one he was owner of.

He told me to see her like that lying in her bed was the hardest thing he's ever had to do.  I understood.  For I one day long ago, held my dead child in my arms.

"I fixed her hair just the way she always liked it," he told me.  "And I know she never wanted makeup on so all I did was put a pale pink color lipstick on her," he told me.  "She'd like that," I said.

Just a few miles down the road, another heart is bleeding this Mother's Day.

"We had reservations for Mother's Day," he told me.  "I can't believe this has happened.  I can't believe she's gone."

I didn't reply, for there were no words to express how I knew what he felt.  They have been married for over forty years.

Life is short for all of us.  None of us know if today or tomorrow will be our last day on this earth.

Two friends very close to me are having a hard time with Mother's Day coming tomorrow.

The reservation has been cancelled by her husband, but the gift is still sitting on her son's table at his home.

"I can't take it back, I just can't," he told me.

"Then don't," I told him. 

A box arrived yesterday in the mail at my house.  I knew it was coming.  I had got the call about it.

"I want you to have it," he said.  "I know she would want you to have it."

When I opened the box, I stared at a beautiful necklace that he'd bought for her.

"You're not only her best friend," he said, "You're part of our family after all these years."

I felt all kinds of emotions when I looked at the necklace.  I knew how much she loved it.

To those who have a mother living, take the time tomorrow to pick up your phone and let her know how much she means to you.

To those who no longer have a mother living, treasure the memories you and she made through the years.

To those who have lost a child, my heart goes out to you this day.

We never know what tomorrow will bring. 

Sharon Bryant

1946@bellsouth.net

~**~**~

  Remembering my Beloved Mother, Edith
by
Cynthia Groopman
 

Throughout my entire life, my mother was my best friend, a role model, a
jewel, a mentor, and a flower of hope, joy and unconditional love.
If my mother were alive today, she would be 94 years old. She had dark
black hair, s smiling cheerful face, big brown eyes that danced with
mirth and a heart of gold.
Born in June of 1913, during what was called Jewish Harlem, in
Manhattan, to an immigrant mother, Rose and an American musician father,
Samuel, Edith was the middle child.
She was loving and eager to please as a child. Very smart in school, she
was the only girl to pass the test to attend Hunter College High school,
which was a specialized high school. She made rapid advancements and
graduated 8th grade at 11 years old.
She did well in high school and excelled in languages. She subsequently
was admitted to Hunter College and majored in languages. She was the
first one of the family to graduate from college.
At age 16 her father passed away from walking pneumonia and she was
immediately chosen to cook, do the cleaning and shopping after school
and also worked on weekends.
She handled the responsibility well and was mature at 16 when she
graduated from Hunter College High school.
After college, my mom was a teacher at the Hunter Model school but did
not like teaching. She became a bookkeeper and excelled in the business
world. She worked as head bookkeeper at an exclusive fashion house in
Manhattan N.Y.
In July of 1946 mom met Abraham. They married on November 17, 1946.
They were 35 and 33 when they married. Two years later my mom gave birth
to premature fraternal twins, a boy and a girl.
We were so small and there was no hope for us to live and mom would cry,
look to God for comfort and solace. We did live and after twelve weeks
in the incubators, mom brought us home. There she nurtured us, cared for
us, molded us and our life with her began.
A creative person, mom would sing to us, read stories to us, make up
games to entertain us and would make us play things and cards for
occasions.
When we entered school and during the summers mom would play teacher,
and give us assignments to do in spelling, reading etc. Thus we advanced
for the following school year in those subjects.
Mom was a great cook and baker and would charm us with delicious dishes
especially during the Jewish holidays. She would sing all of the old
songs as well and speak Yiddish to her mom and mother-in-law fluently.
Wonderful to all, mom was a gem to know and to love.
Time marched on. I was a teacher and lived at home because I loved her
so much. We would stroll the lanes together, speak incessantly of
everything and she was the most important part of my life.
When I lost my vision in 1988 due to an accident, mom was there to
encourage me, to help me cope to help me think optimistically and she
would tell me to dream, to find the rainbow and to touch the pot of
gold at the end of it
How true were those wonderful words and thoughts of hers because that
started me off to achieve dreams and goals as I began my second life.
Mom and dad were aging. Mom fell in 1993 and in 1996 was bedridden due
to spinal stenosis. She had a keen mind, would sing, make me laugh and I
would tell her everything of the outside world. Mom aged and in October
2003 she became very ill. Holding her hand in intensive care at the
hsoptial, I would squeeze it, sing to her “You are my Sunshine” and just
pat and stroke her tenderly.
When the call came on a cold November morning at 5:45 A.M. I felt a
sadness in my heart. I had a dream that night that mom told me she was
about to start her journey with the angels to the heavenly abode to
dwell in eternity.
At the funeral I gave a speech from my heart. The year of mourning which
is customary for the Jewish people was sad for me, and I wrote poetry to
help me cope.
Although the grief is gone, there is a longing for her smile, her sweet
melodic voice, her singing, her poetry, and for her warm hug and sweet
kiss.
Her touch is felt at times at night in dreams and even her voice is
heard.
There is no person in this world  I have adored and appreciated so
deeply and dearly than my mom, Edith, an extraordinary lady,.
She is always with me spiritually, and she is my guardian angel.
May her memory be a blessing.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

My Mother's Hand
Cynthia Groopman

When I was a child, so vulnerable and small,
My mother's firmly outstretched hand would catch me when I fall.
My mother's soft velvety comforting hand
would gently touch and cool my feverish little face,
As she'd enfold my aching body into a healing motherly embrace.
When my heart trembled with intense fear and I cried with fright,
Mother's comforting hand of reassurance
would gently rock me to sleep during a restless dark night.
Smiling brightly, she would gently grasp my hand,
Filling my cup of life with optimistic encouraging words
that helped me surmount obstacles in my life's land.
With her skillful hand, a beautiful tapestry
for a happy successful life she did weave,
And a treasured legacy of hope, faith, strength and courage
for me she did lovingly leave.
While she lay gravely ill, at the threshold of death's door
being unable to verbalize and speak,
With deep love, I squeezed her hand, that was so frail and weak.
Although your soft hand is no longer physically touching me,
I adore you as my gift from God And treasure you eternally.


Cynthia Groopman

Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

~**~**~

 My Mother's Kiss
Cynthia Groopman

Soft and moist like the sparkling morning dew,
my mother's kiss unfolded powering emotions strong through and through
more potent soothing than any ointment or potent than any pills,
my mother's kiss healed my pain and cured my ills.
Upon my sullen face that was saddened by a doleful frown,
my mother's kiss caused me to smile and the storm clouds were gone.
Calming and reassuring me in times of anxiety and fright,
my mother's kiss would allay my fear during a stormy night.
In times of sorrow, stress and strain,
my mother's kiss would make my heart dance and sing again.
For now my mother's kiss is sweet and serene,
when she enfolds me into her arms spiritually in a sweet dream.


Cynthia Groopman

Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

 ~**~**~

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