My mother was a single mom who worked two jobs. Yet she always made time for her children

As we remember Mother on her special day, I almost forget that I, too, am a mother. My thoughts have been focused on my own mom and how much she meant, and still means to me.

Mom died on Dec. 13, 2002. That was nearly 22 years ago, but it seems like only last week that my brother Adam, his wife Val, and I stood by her beside saying our goodbyes.

It was such a bittersweet moment. My brother and I were engrossed in our own thoughts of Mom — what she meant to us as we grew up with her as the only parent in the home. I thought of all the little antics I pulled to somehow get Mom to see things my way. She always saw through my schemes and often let me think that I had won.

Mom and I had a special bond. She wasn’t big on telling me out loud that she loved me. That wasn’t her style. But I knew. I knew because when she left Williston and an abusive marriage, she could have left me and my brother behind with relatives. She was young and pretty and could have started a new life.

But she chose to be the mother that she was called to be, loving her children enough to bring us along. It was a tough ride. She braced herself and prayed for God’s guidance and strength along the journey.

As I got older, I knew Mom loved us by the way she got up at 5 every morning to catch the 6 a.m. bus that would take her to Miami Beach and her job. And I knew because when she left that job, there was sometimes another job she rushed off to. She did it all out of love and her responsibility of providing for us.

It amazes me now, to look back on those days and wonder how Mom was able to instill in us good manners, integrity and kindness when there was no cell phone to keep in touch with us. In fact, for years as I was growing up, we didn’t have a telephone. Period.

Somehow, Mom managed to nurture us and teach us while she tackled two jobs. I tell you, that woman was a real Super Mom!

Mom had a teachable spirit. And along the way she was blessed to meet not only the neighborhood women, but women she went to work for when she was new in Miami. Women like the late Ethel Goldstein, who was a real Jewish mother to Mom and taught her things that her own mom didn’t know to teach her.

Mrs. Goldstein’s generosity and kindness had such an impact in our life that it still resonates in my family three generations later.

So here I am today, 22 years after Mom has gone on to be with the Lord, still missing her. I know there are many of you reading this column who are missing your mom, too.

While we can no longer honor our moms with perfume and flowers and brunches, we can honor them by putting into action all the good things they taught us. We can be the women and men of integrity our moms would want us to be. We can be kind and thoughtful and considerate of others. We can be thankful for our moms.

As I celebrate my mom today, I would be remiss if I didn’t honor all the surrogate moms who stepped up when Mom couldn’t be there for me and my brother. Many of them had children of their own, but they were always there for us.

One of them was my late Aunt Thelma, who along with her husband Uncle Morgan, took us in when Mom left Williston, not too far from Gainesville. We stayed with Auntie Thelma for nearly a year until Mom could find work and a place for us to live in Miami.

My aunt and uncle had five children of their own. The oldest was 6 and the baby was 2, as was my little brother. They lived in rural East Palatka and never thought twice when Mom said she needed them. I had my sixth birthday while living with them.

I remember Auntie Thelma calling me to her one day, giving me two pennies. It was my birthday. She said, “This is all auntie has for your birthday. Go buy yourself something.”

My cousin Bernice, who died several years ago, was their only girl at the time. I was a year older and we were like sisters. I took the two cents from my aunt, thanked her, and Bernice and I were off, skipping through the woods to the little country store where I bought my favorite cookies — Chocolate Snaps.

Bernice and I walked slowly on the way back home, savoring the cookies. We knew there were five boys whom we had to share them with when we got home. Somehow, it seemed that God increased the number of cookies in that box, and everyone got a fair share.

To this day, that is the sweetest birthday gift I have ever received. Auntie Thelma gave me all that she could scrape together to give me a birthday gift that I will never forget.

I was able to thank my Auntie Thelma before she died. She didn’t remember the two-penny birthday gift. When I told her it was my best birthday gift ever, she got very emotional. Auntie Thelma died a couple of years after Mom. Today, I remember her with love.

There are so many other wonderful surrogate moms who helped shape my life. Today, I wish I could give them all a big hug and take them out to brunch or give them a bouquet of roses.

But I can’t. I can only hope that I have followed their example of being a good mother. I pray that I have loved not only my two sons, but some other child enough that one day they will remember me with love.

Happy Mother’s Day!