A Mother's Legacy
by Helen Dowd

I lost my mother to cancer when she was only 49 years old.
This poem is a tribute to her.

Like A Flower

Mother, you were like a floweró
Put on this earth to bloomó
Resplendent in your beauty,
But wilted far too soon.

You added comfort to our lives,
Just as a flower would;
But even flowers fade and die:
We'd keep them if we could.

But when the blossom shrivels up,
And drops into the ground,
It never ever dies in vain.
It scatters seeds around.

Although you're gone away from us,
And we'll miss you very much,
There's no one who came near to you
Whose life you did not touch.

She Left Us All A Legacy

She could have married a doctor.
She was a registered nurse.
She could have had a large bank account,
With money in her purse.

But instead she married my father,
And her life became a chore.
He moved her to the homestead,
Where the work was never o'er.

She washed the walls in the daytime,
She scrubbed the floors at night.
She cooked on a rusty wood stove,
To bake at all, was a fight.

No telephones, no power,
The water she drew from a well.
She scrubbed the clothes on a washboard,
Until her fingers would swell.

There was no woman to talk to,
No one to share her load.
At times she'd get so lonely,
She thought she would explode.

No clinics near to go to.
No doctors to come to her aid.
Through sickness, childbirth and hardships,
So bravely she did wade.

And when her life was ended
At a young age--forty-nine,
She left us all a legacy,
Which has lasted all this time.

Her life she lived for others,
Reflecting her Saviour above.
She taught by her own example
Of Christ's unselfish love.

© Helen Dowd

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