She’s dead. But that doesn’t mean her memories are. I have so many ridiculous memories of my mom. We rarely got along, which makes it tough now, but I deal.
Mom, Me and Dad
Circa 1979ish, I believe.
See, I was a natural blonde!
She was an alcoholic. But she was much nicer drunk than sober, which was a double-edged knife, as you can imagine. She was verbally viscous. But she was very sensitive and certainly had at least a little bit of remorse when her words stung. She was terrible with money. But we never lived like we were poor. We always got what we needed and then some. Of course this also meant we ate a lot of Cap’N Crunch. I ABHOR it now. But that’s okay because it scratches the roof of your mouth anyhow.
My mom was diagnosed with stage 4-lung cancer in November 2001. I remember when she called Curtis and I and summoned us to the house along with my brother and her long time boyfriend Al. She sat us all down and laid it all out there. “I have lung cancer.” She didn’t shed a tear. But as I recall I began to sob and my brother did too. I asked her if she was going to fight it. And as the strong woman she was, she assured us she was going to do everything she could to beat it.
What followed seemed like it lasted forever but in the end, it felt like it was over in the blink of an eye. I remember the day she asked us, my brother and I, to shave her head once the chemo and radiation started to make her hair fall out. She never wanted a wig, even when I offered to buy one for her. She sometimes wore bandanas, but she mainly let her baldhead shine. She really pulled it off. I really thought she was so brave to do that. I don’t think I ever could.
I was newly pregnant with our first child during her battle and she suggested I name the baby Eunice. Sorry, mom, I just couldn’t do that. But Curtis suggested we use mom’s middle name for our daughter’s middle name.
I had Alexis Lynn on April 21, 2002. Mom visited the next day. I was royally annoyed that she didn’t come up to the hospital once while I was in labor. Until it finally, years later I might add, occurred to me that she had cancer and that can feel pretty shitty. I assume this of course.
In July she had to call 911 because she couldn’t feel her legs and collapsed. I met them at the hospital and hours later we were told the cancer had metastasized to her spine and there was actually a giant tumor growing on it. They couldn’t operate, they could just help her with the pain and that was basically it.
She stayed in the hospital until September when she finally convinced all of us to let her come home to die. We begged for her to stay in the hospital. We were sure we couldn’t do much at home for her. Steven was only 21 and I had a newborn baby to tend to. Luckily I only lived a mile or so away so I could visit and help out when I could, but Steven basically gave up being 21 to care for his bedridden 47-year-old mother.
My brother did everything for her. They loved each other so deeply as most mothers and sons do. But their bond was amazing. Luckily Hospice came several days a week and at one point she gathered us again and we witnessed her sign the DNR. It was awful, but it was the right decision. On September 31, 2002 at 5 am, I received a call I’ll never forget. “I think mom just died. I was laying in bed with her and I heard and felt her last breath.” Steven cried.
I raced as fast I could to get there for my brother. What the hells were we suppose to do? A 24 and 21 year old forced to decide what to do after having our mother die. Luckily mom’s best friend and our close friend, Karen lived near. We called her and she was there faster than a jet. She called hospice that then called the ambulance and so one.
One thing I remember is Karen taking Steven and me to a back room so we didn’t have to witness the body bag zipping up. We all three hugged and cried together while business was tended to and finished. She helped us with the funeral and burial. She helped us with the paperwork for the insurance. She started a collection for Alexis’s college in my mother’s name. She was a true gift from God.
I need to thank my cousins for helping so much with her care. We’ll never forget what you did for her and us. We love you so much.
So, remember when you are pissed at your mom for whatever reason, just know that you are lucky enough to be able to hear her voice again. One note - we couldn’t delete her answering machine outgoing message because it was the last sort of physical connection we had to her. I think the tape is still around in a box somewhere. It would be so great to hear it.
So there you have it. The last piece of my mom I have, now in memory form!
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
P.S. This might be a reason why I FUCKING hate Mother’s Day. Whaddya think?
P.S.S. Sorry for the sad unbelievably long story. I’ll try to get my funny back on next time.
P.S.S. I realized after all of this, the bad memories I have of my childhood grow less and less prominent in my mind. Suddenly I can look past the shit and see the rainbow. It’s pretty nice, really.