Honoring My Mother: One Regret I Carry

I first drafted this piece several years ago, not long after my mom passed. It sat unfinished because I could never quite find the right words. I finally completed it with help from my AI writing buddy. What started as scattered thoughts and voice notes has become a tribute for Mother’s Day.

My mom’s birthday was in March, and with Mother’s Day here again, I feel the same quiet ache. One of my few true regrets in life is that I didn’t honor her the way she deserved while she was here.

She was a simple Appalachian woman from a West Virginia holler—quick-witted, sharp-tongued when needed, and beautifully no-nonsense. Life handed her more than her share of hardship, yet she met each day with steady optimism and a laugh that could fill a room. She made mistakes, as every mother does, but she also made quiet sacrifices that went unseen.

She always took my calls. She listened patiently to my endless talking — my opinions, my dramas, my world. But I only rarely asked about hers. I didn’t sit with her heart the way she sat with mine. I failed to truly see her as a whole person who also needed to be heard. After her stroke, that truth landed hard, and the missed opportunities still feel sobering.

Now, as a mother myself, I understand something I didn’t fully appreciate then. When my daughter calls, everything else fades. Those moments feel precious — irreplaceable. They aren’t interruptions; they’re gifts.

If I could change one thing, it would be this: I would have asked Mom about her life more often. I would have honored her not just as my mother, but as a whole human being.

She offered wisdom that still guides me. Three of her clearest lessons were:

“Honey, if they do it with you, they’ll do it to you.” “When people show you who they are, believe them.” “Nature will correct it.”

I heard the first two long before the world popularized them, and they often go together. Living simply and somewhat isolated, her wisdom came from watching people closely and speaking plain truth. She said that people reveal themselves through their actions and you just need to be still and watch. When someone speaks kindly to your face but criticizes others behind their back, believe them — they’ll likely do the same to you.

And then there was “Nature will correct it” — life’s quiet balancing. What we put out eventually finds its way back. She trusted this without becoming bitter. She would laugh that big rolling laugh, shake her head at the foolishness she saw in others, and when I stumbled, she didn’t lecture. She simply said, “Don’t do it again.” And sometimes she’d add, “If you do, nature will correct you. I don’t need to.”

Every mother makes mistakes. Every mother carries burdens her children don’t fully see until much later, if ever. Honoring her isn’t about pretending she was flawless. It’s about offering respect, curiosity, and grace while there’s still time.

I miss being able to pick up the phone and hear Mom’s voice. I miss her laughter, her wisdom, and the safe place she always was for me. This Mother’s Day, I honor her by sharing a few of the things she taught me — and by encouraging others to do what I didn’t do enough of: Ask your mom about her life. Listen to her heart. Honor her while you still can.

Mom’s words still live in me. And when I repeat them, I can almost hear her laugh — the most infectious sound I’ve ever heard.