“The hardest thing in life is 
wanting to call your Mom 
and knowing she 
won’t answer again.”
Trent Shelton

It’s a strange feeling. It hasn’t happened to me for quite some time, but it happened tonight. After finishing dinner, I walked upstairs to my office and had an overwhelming desire to call my Mom. I wanted to tell her about the publication of A Bahamian Odyssey. She was my #1 fan when it came to my writing. She would have been happy to hear the news and would have told me to be sure to get her a copy as soon as possible. Yeah,… can’t do that anymore.

In my childhood years, my siblings and I were often called upon to sing at family gatherings with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It’s an Irish thing. The words to one song I recall singing quite often continue to resound in my head:

A mother’s love is a blessing
no matter where you roam.
Keep her while she’s living,
for you’ll miss her when she’s gone.
Love her as in childhood,
now feeble, old, and grey,
sure you’ll never miss a mother’s love
’til she’s buried beneath the clay.

The lyrics mean so much more to me now than they ever did when I sang that traditional Irish tune as a child.