A love letter to a mother: a touch of regret and an abundance of gratitude
(Editor’s note: The Criterion invited you, our readers, to share your stories and tributes about motherhood from two perspectives—the gift of having your mom and the gift of being a mom. We received so many wonderful responses, and this one is the last in our series of stories. See part five)
By John Shaughnessy
Even in our closest relationships—and maybe mostly in our closest relationships—we don’t always share the gratitude and the love that we have for someone as fully as we want.
And when we can no longer share those thoughts and feelings with someone face to face, there can be regret.
Ann Gilday Lundy has a tinge of regret concerning her relationship with her mother, Mary Catherine Gilday.
“There’s so much I wish I had said to her while she was here—how much I admired her strength, her faith, her unwavering love,” notes Lundy, a member of Christ the King Parish in Indianapolis. “If I could go back, I’d tell her how much her courage meant to me, and how it shaped not just who I became, but how I live my life every day.”
Lundy shared that thought in “a love letter” to her mother that she recently wrote, 23 years after her mom’s death in 2002. Yet far more than the regret, it’s the love that stands out from that tribute to her mom—a tribute that revolves around a heartbreaking time when Gilday’s courage, strength and faith left a lasting impression on her daughter.
“One of the most profound memories I carry of my mother is from 1979, during my senior year at Cathedral High School in Indianapolis,” Lundy recalls. “She had gone in to renew her driver’s license and failed the eye exam. We soon learned that she was blind in her left eye. Our fears were quickly realized when she was diagnosed with a meningioma—a brain tumor the size of a grapefruit.
“Though benign, the tumor had grown into her optic nerve and caused the blindness. At the time, she was also managing type 2 diabetes, and the combination left me heartbroken and terrified.”
Her fear and heartbreak began to fade because of the faith and fearlessness that her mom showed through this challenging time.
“What happened next shaped me forever,” Lundy notes. “My mother endured a long and difficult hospitalization—three months—but never lost her faith. Through every painful moment, every setback, she leaned into her unshakable trust in God.
“I remember watching her resilience, her courage and her grace in the face of adversity. She was determined not to miss my graduation, and in May of 1980, she kept that promise. I can still see her there, beaming with pride, a living miracle at the Cathedral High School campus on the hill.
I will always remember that May in 1980—not just for my graduation, but for the gift of having my mother by my side.”
So many other memories stand out to Lundy from the 22 more years she had with her mother—“a gift we all considered miraculous,” Lundy says. She still savors memories of holidays spent together, trips to Florida, and times at a lake in southern Indiana.
She also feels blessed that her mother was there for her start in the health care profession, when she became a registered nurse. And there’s a cherished photo of the two of them side by side from 1993 when Lundy’s compassion and care as an oncology nurse at then-St. Francis Hospital in Beech Grove led to her receiving the St. Francis Family Spirit Award.
Lundy credits her mom and her mom’s health crisis for her career as a health care professional, including the past three years when she has served as the chief executive officer of Indiana Health Centers, which serves more than 50,000 people across the state.
“That chapter of our lives stirred something deep in me,” Lundy notes. “I wanted to serve those who suffer, to stand alongside families in moments of fear and uncertainty, just as my mother had stood with me. Every day, I carry her with me—in the work, in the mission, and in my heart.”
While a tinge of regret lingers for Lundy that she didn’t share everything on her heart with her mom, her choice to write “a love letter to my mother” speaks volumes about the depth of her love—and her hope that her tribute will somehow reach her mom.
She ended her love letter with this thought:
“Her presence was a blessing, her love an anchor. I honor her legacy with all the love and gratitude she so richly deserves.” †