In loving memory of my mother on her 98th birthday
Though we strive for perfection,
we agree it is an impossible goal.
There is always something
that can be improved
no matter how close we think we’ve come.
It would be pointless for me to argue the point.
My mother’s love
seemed to test the limits of perfection,
at least in my opinion.
I’m not saying she was a perfect person,
she certainly wasn’t that,
she had as many faults as anyone does,
but her love for her family–
That is another story.
She said no as often as she said yes,
and by example taught us the important things:
honesty, generosity, and kindness,
to let anger go, to forgive and forget,
to put others first,
to see the best in people,
to love and not be afraid to show it.
We were always welcomed with open arms;
enfolded in her embrace
we knew her love would keep us safe.
The warm of that unconditional love
remains a beacon when the world grows dark;
when all else fails, her love continues on.
So I strive to emulate the perfection
of my mother’s love.
It seems an impossible goal,
a pinnacle too high to attain,
and then I feel the love
pushing me forward
to be the best I can be.
If you’d like to read more poems written for my mother, you can take a look at last year’s birthday post.
~Elise Skidmore ©2017