My friend’s mother just passed; I believe she was almost 90! A long life indeed.
No matter how much time we have with loved ones, it never seems long enough. For that matter, losing a friend or a pet invokes the same feelings now that I think about it.
While there are obvious emotions which accompany such a loss, losing someone near and dear affects people in different ways.
My friend is rather quiet about his personal life and I respect his silence, especially since the loss occurred last week.
If he remains silent for months I might begin to worry, but I suspect that he’s reminiscing about the ups and downs sprinkled into his family fabric over many decades…a healthy reflection process indeed.
Over the past year I’ve spent some time reflecting on my mother’s life and my good fortune having had time with her in my life.
Mom forged her way through this world most unassumingly and graciously. I suspect that the humble backdrop, that was her childhood environment, had much to do with shaping her pure and simplistic demeanor.
Hers was a life of excitement, giving, laughing, loving and, yes, sometimes indescribable sadness.
If she were sad, one would never know. I always admired that quality.
Actually, as I sprouted my wings into a sometimes troubling world, her way of seeing good in every situation sometimes frustrated me.
When work wasn’t going well or if I'd had a bad day with the boss or a crappy day on the radio show she’d somehow find a positive. I didn’t want to hear positive…it was gripe, bitch and moan time…let me sulk for heaven‘s sake!!
Not a chance...If you came to mom looking for a willing pity party attendee you came to the wrong place. In retrospect, I’m glad.
She earned her living as a career beautician and absorbed experiences that are hard to imagine.
In her years of standing over that chair in the beauty shop, she worked her magic on everyday people like you and me AND the rich and famous. Mom was quick to tell you that celebrities are, in fact, no different from you or me.
Some of her notable regulars were Brenda Lee, Mae Axton (co-writer of Elvis’ Heartbreak Hotel), Patsy Cline...the list goes on.
She even had the honor of styling Sarah Cannon’s hair before she traveled to participate in the USS Arizona Memorial dedication at Pearl Harbor.
Note: Ms. Cannon’s more recognizable name was Minnie Pearl, a founding star/member of the Grand Ole’ Opry in Nashville.
When she retired, mom spent time on herself. She worked on her gardens, she sewed, she quilted, she relaxed and she bought TONS of crap from those late night info-mercials.
I always laughed when I’d visit as I surveyed her proud stash of magic can openers, knives that could slice through a Kevlar police vest or a boulder, yet delicately deliver a paper-thin tomato sliver for a tasty sandwich.
Because of her retirement “As Seen On TV” shopping activities I am the proud owner of every single newly U.S. minted commemorative quarter…mounted and framed mind you.
Her passion to be productive brought a short lived retirement; a second career came at age 61! This time, giving back to the world with her other indelible talent…cooking!
By the way, it’s a miracle that I didn’t weigh 400-pounds growing up in her culinary company.
She and another friend launched a catering service and through those years mom cooked for and served Presidents, Vice Presidents, Governors, Senators, A US Postmaster General and virtually the entire who’s who of a very star-filled Nashville, Tennessee.
Bench marked against her humble childhood, they were just people to her and she was proud that they enjoyed her food more than anything.
Then came retirement number 2...sort of.
After the death of her mother, and until mom became ill and unable to move around as she was so accustomed, she decided that she'd tend to terminally ill senior citizens.
I often wondered WHY in the world she would subject herself to such situations where the outcome was painfully obvious. Especially after experiencing the pain of losing so many loved ones over her years on earth.
I now know that she made the final days of those men and women most enjoyable.
She gave them care, friendship and comfort as they approached the end of their long journey in life.
Much like the runners in Chariots of Fire, she ran and ran and ran because it pleased God. It pleased her too.
She provided a sort of non medical hospice. The irony and the most difficult thing I've ever had to do was to explain to her what hospice meant and why her doctors recommended it.
She made it as easy on me as possible while never losing that optimism which had served her well throughout life. That same optimism which sometimes had irritated me when I found myself drowning in a pitty party about insignificant situations in life, love and work.
Up until the very end mom befriended a lovely, but lonely, lady with whom she shared a room at the medical care facility. Miss Alice.
It amazes and frustrates me to this day that Alice’s six offspring couldn’t drive 8-miles to visit their mother more than two times per month. I drove 500 miles every month or six weeks.
I simply can’t grasp it.
But, I’m most fortunate to have had such a wonderful influence in my life.
From her humble upbringing to a life fulfilled, mom may not have been monetarily rich but she was richer than any Wall Street tycoon ever known. A richness which carries no dollar value but effected immeasurable impact on those around her.
Even though it’s been commercially hijacked, Mother’s day actually dates back to Isis in ancient Egypt and is celebrated, in culturally appropriate fashion, throughout the world.
In The United States, Anna Jarvis quit her job and worked tirelessly to resurrect Mother’s Day in the early 1900’s. The Puritans tossed it out upon settling in America until Woodrow Wilson finally designated it a National holiday.
I still observe Mother's Day, and Father's day. I comfortably reflect on the fact that my parents chose me. They rescued me at birth from, what was almost certain to be, a difficult life. Yes, I’m adopted.
While I've never met her, on this mother’s day I also reflect on the unselfish and unimaginable love that my biological mother held for me in making that sacrifice.
Two days after returning my mother to the earth I received the final two quarters in the mail for the collection that she’d diligently amassed for me. I silently cried at that mailbox.
Now I feel that it was simply her way of saying that things are going to be okay and that life will go on…and she's correct.
It was her subtle way of saying hello, not goodbye.
I miss mom. For that matter I miss my father as well.
I realize that there are those who have, or have experienced, a tenuous relationship with a parent; maybe even both.
In some cases I appreciate that their feelings might be valid, however I also know some people who hold such feelings that are not justified.
In the meantime I’ll look at my quarters today, which are securely dismantled and in a nondescript little bag that I keep in a safe place.
I’m quite certain that I will smile today as I draw upon that optimism which my mother held so dearly, even when it irritated me.
I'll remember happy moments and laugh as I reflect upon the time when she and my father were called to a parent/teacher conference because I'd informed my 7th grade Social Studies teacher that he might want to consider auditing a history class at the local college.**
**I corrected him on the fact that it was not Columbus who proved that the world was round. It was Aristotle who proved the theory by pointing it out during an eclipse, noting that the earth casts a spherical shadow on the moon. Furthermore, he did so without raping, pillaging and spreading venereal diseases to natives of the Caribbean island societies in the Netherland Antilles, as Columbus did.
I truly wish I’d kept that waterproof shower radio mom ordered from the late night commercials.
Happy Mother’s Day. Most importantly, happy Sunday.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
