A Tribute to my Mother on her 96th Birthday

For My Mother, on Her 96th Birthday

McBride Family Reunion, 2019 Mom was 89–still being the string, still holding us together, still teaching all of our and hers to fly

Today my mother turns 96. She is in hospice now, slowly slipping away, and yet today I find myself thinking about her not only in terms of letting go—but in awe.

Years ago someone once described me as a kite—full of ideas, curiosity, and energy, always pulling toward the sky. But a kite doesn’t fly on its own. A good kite needs a string—something strong enough to hold it to the ground, and wise enough to give it just enough slack to let it soar.

That’s who my mother has been.

There were eight of us—eight kites—each pulled by different winds, each flying in our own directions.

None of us flew perfectly. We failed. We drifted. We tangled sometimes. But we flew.

We traveled to many places. We lived brave, imperfect lives. And all the while, my mother held the string.

I think now of the sheer size of the ball of string she must have carried—how much patience, resilience, and quiet strength it took to keep us connected without clipping our wings.

When my sister Rachel died suddenly in a car accident, that string stretched almost beyond imagining. She held our grief when it threatened to scatter us.

When my father died, she grieved deeply—and then learned how to live differently, how to hold us together without him beside her. In so many ways, she became the lone string—still steady, still present, still holding.

She didn’t hold us tightly out of fear. She held us faithfully out of love.

Now, as I try to do the same for my own children—stretching, adjusting, learning how to hold without controlling, how to stay connected while letting them fly—I am newly aware of the quiet heroism of my mother’s life.

She is a remarkable woman. Today, on her 96th birthday, I give thanks for the string she has been in my life. For the strength I didn’t always see. For the love that never let go. For the way she helped us all take to the sky—and somehow kept us tethered to one another at the same time.

Happy Birthday, Mom. You have held us well.