She’s not my mother; she was my high school cheerleading advisor, business teacher, and later my faith mentor at our church.  I saw her pride and joy as her children grew up.  Her daughter babysat for my children when they were young.  I watched her excitement when her children graduated high school, and saw her tears of joy when they married.  When her grandchildren were born, each one brought more tears of joy and you could see the love in her eyes whenever she spoke of them.  She made beautiful quilts, she was a beautiful person, she always had an inviting smile.

She was in a freak accident helping her husband sort cattle on their farm earlier this year, something all farm wives have done countless times.  Her light was too quickly dimmed.

Her daughter and I cried in each other’s arms at her wake.   I felt her husband’s heart aching when I offered condolences, and could see the stoic shock on her son’s face as I spoke to him.  I told her daughter I would write to her about her mother because I couldn’t talk and express what she meant to me that day.

Her name was Becky Werner, and I know this Mother’s Day her daughter, Amy and son Jason, will intensely  feel the hole that she left behind.   I don’t have any words of wisdom to help, I can only say that their mom was my hero.  I cry when I think of her, but it also makes me smile remembering all her kind words and the talks of family and faith she gave to me throughout her life.  She would tell us all that she’s okay, she knows of our love, she feels it, and sends it back in return.

I know she’s still watching over her family, she left such a great legacy.  If I could say one thing to her it would be “Happy Mother’s Day, Becky, you were an amazing mother and grandmother!   I love you, I miss you, and I’m so grateful to have had you in my life.”