I opened the dishtowel drawer for about the sixth time, hoping the towels had somehow magically appeared.

The brand new towels still werent there, of course.

What did Mom DO with them? I wondered aloud.

I knew they had to be around somewhere because I had given them to her for Christmas only a few months ago. Not that the towels were so terribly important. Its just that when youre expecting guests, youd kind of like everything to look nice.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't going to find them. Then again, the guests wouldnt arrive until tomorrow. Plenty of time to worry about dishtowels later.

On second thought, maybe I ought to forget about the towels all together. My fathers niece and her husband didnt seem like the kind of people who would leave in a huff because their host hadnt put out new dishtowels.

What next?

Perhaps Id better see if I could lay my hands on Moms best tablecloth. A tablecloth had always been one of the things my mother insisted upon when we had company.

I went to the drawer where Mom kept her tablecloths, and sure enough, there it was.

But when I pulled out the hand-embroidered tablecloth, the one that it had taken her months to complete, I gasped in dismay. Right in the middle was a big stain. Now how in the world did Moms best tablecloth end up with a stain?

Oh yes, thats right. Wed all been here for Christmas, and one of the kids had accidentally knocked over a glass of soda pop. The sight of her grandchild sobbing with remorse had been more important than the tablecloth, and Mom had said she was sure the pop would come out when she washed it.

All right, so it looked like Id have to forget the tablecloth, too. Maybe Id be better off attending to the big things right now, anyway, like vacuuming.

Satisfied that I was finally going to make some progress, I got out the vacuum cleaner.

Except. . .why did it sound so funny? And why wasnt it picking up those bits of paper on the living room carpeting?

I pulled out the attachments hose and flipped the switch again. Ah-ha. Thats why. No suction. The hose was plugged.

Well, of COURSE the hose was plugged. I couldnt find the new dishtowels. Moms best tablecloth had a big stain. Why wouldn't the vacuum cleaner hose be plugged?

And right then and there, I started to cry. Now what was I going to do? Would a wire hanger work? Thirty minutes later, however, the vacuum cleaner was still plugged.

Where was Dad? I knew hed gone outside and was probably puttering around in his garden, seeing as it was the middle of April, but why wasnt he in here when I needed him? After being a farmer for 50 years, he could fix absolutely anything.

Just at that moment, my father came into the house.

Whats wrong? he asked, noticing that I had been crying.

Although it had been years since I called him Daddy, it just sort of slipped out, and along with it came more tears.

Oh, Daddy I cant find the new dishtowels. The tablecloth has a big stain. The vacuum cleaner is plugged. And"

I stopped and swallowed hard.

I miss my mother.

There. Id said it.

And in that instant, the whole world seemed to stop while Dad drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.

I know you do, he said. So do I.

You see, only three weeks earlier, my mother had been diagnosed with advanced gallbladder cancer. Mom died Saturday night, and this was Monday. My fathers niece and her husband were driving 275 miles to attend the funeral, and they would be staying at the house.

As Dad gazed at me, I noticed how much he seemed to have aged in the last few weeks. And his face was covered with silvery stubble. It was a rare morning when my father didnt shave, but then, the past couple of days had been far from ordinary.

And you know what? Dad continued. You always WILL miss your mother. In fact, it wont ever go away completely. Not even when youre as old as me.

Dad was 70. I was 26. I never knew Dad's mother. She had died before I was born.

Mom had been stricken with polio in 1942 when she was 26 and paralyzed in both legs. At the time, the doctors had told her she would never have more children. I was born 16 years later.

After the funeral was over and my fathers relatives had gone home, I found the dishtowels. Mom had put them in her dresser drawer. And with several washings, the stain finally came out of the tablecloth. Dad had been able to fix the vacuum cleaner too.

But nothing could fix the fact that my mother was gone.

Mom died in 1985, and all these years later, I realize that Dad was right I AM always going to miss her.

But Ive also figured out what else he was trying to tell me on that April day so long ago that missing my mother keeps her alive in my heart.

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