mommy and me
This is a repeat post
I wrote it May 8, 2008
This March
was the 10th anniversary of Mom's passing.
I still miss her.
I read wonderful posts that San and Momma wrote about their mothers and grandmothers. I am sure there are other similar posts out there as well as Mother's Day approaches here in the U.S.
I was inspired.
I was going to write this post about my mother and I set out to do that. To pay tribute to the person she was.
And then something happened.
The 'piece' began to write itself. Seriously. It ended up not being the sort of piece I intended but maybe it was the sort of piece I needed to write.
So I warn you upfront this is not a light or smile inducing tribute. I am not sure its really a tribute so much as a child's (me) guilt confessing.
She was and still is Mommy to me, and my sister, although she passed 7 years ago this past March.
She was an amazing person, my Mommy.
She had the patience of a saint. A Jewish saint but a saint to be sure.
She could untangle fine gold chains and sisterly quarrels with the same finesse.
She tried to teach me to sew. It was a losing battle.
I would either sew the button so tight it ripped the jacket or coat OR it would fall off again. I gave up even pretending to sew and would save up all the clothing that needed hemming or button replacement til I saw her.
She once asked what I would do when she was gone. Who would I get to sew my buttons on?
I blithely replied I would take it to the tailor.
The first time I had to do that after she died I cried.
Don’t get me wrong. She drove me crazy. I love her but she knew not only how to sew on buttons but also how to press my buttons.
After Dad died and she was in failing health (far worse than we knew) I would call every day.
I thought I was helping. I listened to her complaints, I gave her advice.
I’d encourage her to get up and walk a bit ... take one step further every day, go on, do it and soon you’ll be walking to the pool I would say.
Her caregiver, a lovely woman named Val, told me that when the phone would ring mid morning Mom would turn to her and say here comes the lecture.
I meant well. I had no idea how sick she was.
In mid February I called to tell her we booked our flights, we'd be there on March 9th but before I could tell her she said: Come visit me. Come soon.
I said: Mommy we'll be there in just a few weeks.
When we got the call she’d been taken to hospital it was early Saturday morning March 3rd.
Val said Mom had been to the beauty salon on Friday to get her hair colored and set. She had a nice day. She went to bed as she always did at 11 pm.
When Val went into her room the next morning she wouldn’t wake up.
EMS was called.
We got the first flight down, tensely wondering for the 2.5 hours if she’d still be alive when we got there.
She was. She was still in the ER but she smiled when she saw us. We joked with her that she would do anything to get ‘her girls’ to come visit.
Things didn’t go well.
We moved her to hospice on Tuesday, March 6 midday and she passed, gently, peacefully, I hope, at 7 pm that evening with her girls holding her hands and telling her it was okay to go, that Dad was waiting for her.
