Friday, May 8, 2015

I remember Mom

She was always there. All my life, no matter whether things were bad or good. Mom was always there.  I'm one of the lucky ones, mom lived to be 94 and I guess I just got used to her listening to me.  Sometimes I'd tell her the same thing over and over again, working through my pain, my disappointment, or celebrating some triumph that only mom could understand just how much it mattered.

Mom at my home in Kansas City with my girls and my brother's two boys, taken shortly before my husband died.  I moved then, and moved again, and again, through it all mom was always there.  She was there for my girls and she was there for me. Mom kept me going; it didn't matter how crazy my life got, mom was there. 

A different life, another daughter, growing girls, and smiling faces, Mom was there, and when I left and went back to the youngest girl's father, mom was there. And when it fell apart again, mom was there. And when he died, she was there then too

Another life, girls all grown, and finally someone for me to trust mom loved that, loved my husband and the way the three of us shared our lives together.  For 23 years that never changed, the three of us together.  We shared so much, the three of us, the years came and went, in the fall she'd fly off to my brother's and while she was there we'd talk on the phone and she'd tell us about all the fun she was having in the sunshine, and in the spring she'd come back and life would pick right back up where it left off in the fall.  Mom was always there - there when I cried and there when I laughed, always there was mom.


A daughter, so beautful, so full of life and laughter, so much love - it hurts so much, so much pain and so many tears, so much loss.  Mom was there, always mom was there, she was there at birth when I said hello and she was there at death when I said goodbye. Always mom was there.

Then there was this, seemed like maybe my time was over - triple negative - the worst kind, lump the size of a golf ball, but mom was there. Always there was mom, she was there to listen to me and cry with me and laugh with me, always mom was there.  And when I beat it all, and we went back to being us and I survived, mom was there, always mom was there.

The years kept going by and finally she was 94.  Where did they go.  She was weakening, we knew she was, but none of us want that, we didn't want the change.  Mom knew time was growing short, and of course I knew, but she knew I didn't want to know and we pretended.  She didn't want to eat, but I'd cook soup and bake biscuits and tempt her and she'd eat. She didn't want to, we both knew she didn't but she would, just because I made them for her.  I'll never forget the last words she ever said to me.  I'd made her soup and she didn't want to eat, and I left the room.  I was hurt, and she knew it because I hated it when she didn't eat -- it made what was coming seem so close.  That night, I went back in the room to see if she was ready for bed and she held up her bowl.  "I ate it all,"  she said and showed me her empty bowl.

I hugged her, and helped her into bed.  She'd taken the mild sleeping pill the doctor had prescribed for her and she was already falling asleep.  I propped her up on the pillows and smoothed her hair.  She was already asleep.

I miss you mom, so much.  Love Judy