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An
Ode To Stepmothers I was 19 when I acquired a stepmother. I
lost my mother to cancer when she was only 49 years old. It
is not very many dying wives who would say this to her husband, but my mother
did: "Allyn,"
she said, "you were not meant to live alone.
Go out and find yourself a good woman." And
that's just what my dad did. Nine
months after the death of my mother, a woman by the name of "Helen"
came into our lives. It was a
quandary to know what to call her, as my name also is "Helen."
After much discussion by everyone, my older sister came up with a
solution. Our Stepmother would be
called, "Helen-mom",
and I would be called "Helen-sis."
My stepmother is now 79, in poor health, and in a nursing home. I dedicate this poem to her, and to all the stepmothers who have loved, without reciprocation. This
is a tribute to you, Helen-mom. So
much has been said about mothers, And all that they mean in our life. To children, they're there for protection, To a husband, companion and wife. But what's ever said about stepmothers? Do they not deserve our praise, too? They've come into our lives and our families, To do what all mothers need do. They wash dirty clothes, and they iron. They cook; they bake, and they mend. They're
always there for our father, And for us children, too, in the end. But we children quite often don't want them. We wish that our mothers were back. When Stepmother offers us comfort, We reject her; explode in anger, attack. Dear Stepmother, so longing to comfort, Is determined that she'll not interfere. But she's always right there in the background, Waiting lovingly to wipe away tears. **** "Well, now that I'm older, dear Stepmother, I will tell you just what's on my heart. I am happy that you joined our family, And of our life, I am glad you're a part. "You could tell—back then—you weren't wanted. You knew that we wished you were gone. But you always were there in the background Offering a shoulder for us to cry on. "I now know we couldn't have managed If you hadn't been there all those years, Silently loving us, praying, And shedding an ocean of tears. "I love you, my dear, sweet Stepmother. You have waited for years, patiently To hear me say, 'Mother, I love you,' You will always be special to me."
Note: I did not necessarily have all these thoughts. I accepted my Stepmother as a sister; however, younger members of the family, I know, did. Now that they are adults, they too have a fond respect for our Stepmother.
©
2002 by Helen Dowd |
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