We all have events that change our lives, events that are earthshattering enough that they change how our internal calendars work. You know, the events that are etched in our minds and we count years as “pre-the event” and “post-the event”.
The first major one in my
internal calendar is the day my mom died.
Mary Day.
October 20, 2002.
20 years ago today.
We got the news that she
was dying on another day that changed my internal calendar, and the internal
calendars of most Americans old enough to have been alive then – September 11,
2001.
So, one year, one month, and a few days after that dreadful diagnosis, she was gone.
Some days it is hard to
imagine that it has been 20 years without her.
And other days it feels like an eternity since she was here.
So much has happened since
she died – family weddings, births, illnesses, divorces, a global pandemic, family
members purchasing new homes, and deaths.
Deaths of her daughter (my sister) and her husband (my dad).
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| The family as she knew it - taken Easter 2002, a few months before she died. There have been 6 children added since this was taken and 2 spouses. |
A strange thing happens when something major occurs and a loved one is no longer alive to witness it. There is always the internal monologue of, “I wish mom was here to see this…” or, the opposite, “I am glad mom is not here to have to witness this…”.
I planned to get up early
today to celebrate Mary Day as I do every year, doing things that Mom liked to
do. Shopping. Getting her nails done. Cleaning the house (kidding, I wasn’t
planning on doing THAT, even though she did do it a lot…). Laundry (I am going to do that!).
But even though I have
been thinking about Mary Day events all week, I couldn’t force myself out of
bed before noon. The sadness kicked in,
and being cocooned in a warm blanket with a pillow over my head seemed much
better than being in a shopping mall purchasing things I know I do not need.
But I am up now. And the sun is shining. And no matter how hard I wish otherwise, Mom
is still dead. In fact, Dad is dead now,
too, leaving me technically “an orphan”, though using that term at my age seems
a bit overly dramatic. But it is true,
and me staying in bed won’t change that.
So, I will take a shower,
get dressed, and head out into the world.
I will try and push my long to-do list about life to the back of my
brain so that I can instead fill it with memories of Mom.
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| Mom and her brothers, circa 1972. Robert, Russell, Mom, and Joe |
And I will put forth my
annual ask of YOU. If your mom is still
alive, no matter your age, please realize the extreme good fortune you
have. Make today a day that you think of
her. Call her. Write her a REAL LETTER and not an
email. If you live near her, stop by and
visit. And give her one of the tightest
hugs you can, please. Do it for me. Cuz lots of us can’t hug our moms
anymore. And we miss that.
And one more ask. If you see your mom today, or next time you
see her, TAKE A PHOTO OF HER. And take
one of you WITH HER. Because when she is
gone, there will be no more photos to take.
There is a finite number of photos we are allowed in life. And when she is gone, you will look through
those photos and wish you had more.
So, take some. Even if she says, “What
are you doing??” or “Don’t take my picture, I didn’t do my hair today!”. You will want to remember her with
messy hair. With pajamas on. Dressed in her beautiful dress and smiling
big.
You will want to remember
her. Just trust me on this one.
Happy Mary Day.
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| Mom's handwriting from a card she sent me. I have this on a necklace now. |
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