All through my childhood and even into adulthood, Thanksgiving was always a time of year that evoked  warm thoughts of family, fine home cooking, Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and of course college football. This particular year, however, made me look at Thanksgiving from a little different point of view as to what is truly important. And that’s, that though life is but a fleeting moment in time, a Momma’s love is eternal.

My family was like a lot of other families in that we rarely celebrated Thanksgiving with just the immediate family. We would all congregate at one of the relatives homes for the occasion. In my family it was always my Aunt Juanita and Uncle Allen’s home. They had this huge home that sat on one hundred and fifty acres of farm land in Greenhill,  Ala.

Momma was always the life of the holiday. Everyone just loved her to pieces. Most everyone, upon meeting her the first time, would always say that she looked just like the actress Elizabeth Taylor, but sounded like Scarlett O’Hara from the movie “Gone with the Wind.” These sentiments were always spoken with the deepest sincerity.

 It’s funny, but in a strange sort of way, people most often times as not seem to take life for granted, that it will never end; that people and loved ones will never end.

On Nov. 6, 1990, I was heading back home to Florence, Ala. I had been an over-the-road trucker for about five years at that time. I had just finished my last drop in Decatur, Ala., when I received a call from one of my parent’s neighbors that it was urgent that I get home as soon as possible. When I hung up the phone I had this deep feeling in my stomach that something very bad had happened. 

Well needless to say, I broke every traffic law there was, as I raced home to face the problem. When I arrived at the house, the first thing that I saw was two police cars, an ambulance and a coroner’s car. I almost threw up. My heart started to race, and I was shaking so bad I couldn’t release my hands from the steering wheel. 

Somehow or another I managed to compose myself enough to climb out of my truck and walk inside the house. A policeman met me at the door and when I told him who I was he said, “Son it’s about your momma.” But before he could finish, I knew. I heard my daddy crying in one of the other rooms. He just kept saying there was nothing he could do.

My Momma at the age of 45 had a massive heart attack and died. She was so young.

I was in complete shock. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t cry. Daddy on the other hand was so distraught, that as they started out the front door he flung himself over her body screaming for God not to take her. I still couldn’t cry. 

As the EMT’s loaded my momma up into the ambulance and left, another car pulled up in front of the house; it was the principal of the local high school and inside of the car were my two brothers, ages 17 and 13. As they exited the principal’s car, they sensed something was wrong and ran toward the house, tears streaming down both of their faces. It was then that I completely lost it. I started to cry uncontrollably. The only thing that I could think of to say was “Momma’s gone.”

We had Momma’s funeral two days later. The air that morning was crisp and cool and the leaves from the maple trees in the cemetery were a brilliant mixture of colors, harvest gold’s, russet oranges and crimson reds. They just sort of drifted and floated in the wind and came to rest around and on her grave. Momma would have loved it.

Two weeks later Thanksgiving arrived. By then, Daddy had pulled himself together, because he knew that Momma would have wanted us to still have Thanksgiving. So just like all the previous years we loaded up and headed to my aunt and uncles home. All of our aunts and uncles and cousins tried their best to cheer us up. 

As the family and all the guest sat around the table, my great uncle said the prayer for Thanksgiving. In Thanksgivings’ past his prayer seemed to go on forever. He would thank the good Lord for everything, from the food, to the family, even the air that we breathe. This year, however, his prayer was short and straight to the point. He said, “Dear God, thank you for a mother’s love.”

Take the time to call your momma and tell her just how thankful you are for her and how much you love her. It will not only warm her heart, but it will give you peace of mind.