Evelyn C. Robinson
I only had my mother, Muriel Loretta Smith, for a few short years, but she was an incredible woman who gave me a loving example. She died in 1941 of cancer and since she was a single mom, she planned for my care by working with her pastor to send me to live in a church-sponsored orphanage, where I stayed for eight years until I graduated from high school. She loved all things - even an albino piglet she cared for when the mother rejected him. She has been my guardian angel.
Syvilla C. Fry
Cooking is my mother's passion, and she uses her gift to make others happy. Whenever she sees a homeless person hanging around a specific place, begging for money, she cooks them an entire meal, and takes it to them. Our home was a place where all the neighborhood kids wanted to be. My mother, Mary C. Anglin-Glover, took many of them in when they had no place to go. She is the strongest, most loving, generous person I know. I thank God for blessing me with the greatest mother of all.
Born to very poor parents of mixed French, Indian and African American ancestry, my mother, Mary Cordelia-Howard, was the eldest of seven children. With very little schooling (fourth grade) she had to become caretaker and provider for her siblings. She was very caring and generous, reaching out to anyone who was in need. During the great flu epidemic in the early 1900s, she sat up all night with ill neighbors. She was a stay-at-home mother for her three children. Because of her thriftiness in handling the family's income, despite the Great Depression, our family produced a doctor, a teacher and an electrician.
Mary C. Bounds
My mom, Rose Sica, died almost six years ago. I think of her every day. Everything about her was so special. She had such a big heart and was always worried about others. She was the oldest aunt in our family, so when her parents died she became like the grandparent to the nieces and nephews. The little ones especially remember how her face lit up like a lamp when they entered the room. Children and pets, especially my brother's two dogs, made her so happy. Thank you Mom for your special gifts to me. You will always be with me in my heart, especially on Mother's Day.
Patricia A Pilla
Just to think of her sometimes brings me to tears, both happy and sad. Betty - even her name is unique. (Can you imagine one of the Desperate Housewives with this moniker?) Mom had six children, the youngest was diagnosed with cancer at age 2 and passed away at age 7. This could have broken the spirit of our family, but because of her love, strength, faith and humor, we all rallied around our little sister and each other. Mom would always remind us, "The most important thing that you'll ever have is your family." We are her legacy and believe no truer words have ever been spoken. Miss you, Mom.
For nearly 92 years, my mom, Eileen Wendler, has focused her life on helping others. From toddler to teenager all my friends wanted to hang at my house. Later, Mom tossed her fear of flying aside and traveled alone to Germany to help with my first baby. Later, when my husband left for Vietnam, my mom brought us home. When my father was stricken with Parkinson's, mom, at 83, became his caregiver, marveling all with her energy. Her giving nature is a precious blessing to us all.
Christine Wendler Detwiler
My mother, Romania Pasquarello, was an only child born in Pescara, Italy, in 1907. She married my father in the United States and had 12 children. He died when I was 6 years old, and she never remarried. On Sunday, you could smell the meatballs and gravy cooking all day while we were all playing or fighting over a card game. We had lots of fun in that house. I will hold her in my heart forever for being a wonderful role model, and for teaching me her philosophy for life: respect everyone as I would like them to respect me.
Josephine Pasquarello Delaney
My mother, Mary P. Higgins, raised five children, four girls and one boy. My mother was a wonderful woman who was always helping us out. She would stop what she was doing and do something for you. She was a good cook and a good housekeeper and never let anyone down. She never got angry, nor was she insulting to anyone. During World War II, she worked for a factory that made camouflage nets.
Clare Higgins Potterton
Last month was my birthday, and every year I miss my mother more. You don't know how young 37 feels until you lose your mom. You don't understand her pain 'til you have a broken "mom's heart." Motherhood is often a thankless job, but you hope to hear those words of thanks. It's never too late. She's waiting.
Laura the beautiful - my mother. Mother's Day was always a calling to all who knew you. Your tireless sacrifices for us were a testament to your selfless love. Your childhood vocation as caretaker for your family seeded the blossoming of love, nurturing and duty that defined your maternal role and legacy for us, your 10 grateful children. We proclaim your loving memory. You and our father, coworkers with God in His own love, now share His immense reward on Mother's Day.
My mom was diagnosed with primary pulmonary hypertension. After many months of waiting, she became one of the first lung transplant recipients at the University of Pennsylvania in 1992. Mom was able to watch her three grandchildren grow up, and we were able to enjoy her life for another 15 years. My mom was always involved in volunteer work. One group was Life Link, which shares the gift of organ donations with the public. She was a smiling face who proved that organ donation does make a difference. Although I miss her terribly since she died in November 2007, I am proud of her impact on all she did and the lives she touched.
My sister and I were both good kids and never got into mischief. But when my mother thought we were annoying, she would dig into her musical repertoire and sing songs so we would leave her alone. My mother died a couple years ago, and when I hear one of those songs now I get a flashback. If she was in the kitchen preparing dinner and we asked, "What are you making?" she'd scowl and then began singing. Then came the usual meatloaf and mashed potato dinner of the 1950s.