Mother's Day 2018

Mother's Day.

He is thrilled the rains have moved on and the fog has lifted. He may get a climb in today up Squaw Pass Road on the bicycle. But for now, he is content to listen to the chorus of the birds and enjoy the warmth of the morning sun against his skin. He hears the squirrels bleat, “Why did you place that vessel full of birdseed on a pulley out of our reach?”

He thinks of her as he sips his coffee from her silly bear mug. She loved this spot. He recalls how the poet Maya Angelou once said, “If you find it in your heart to care for someone else, you will have succeeded.” He thinks to himself, "She succeeded."

In his youth her caring could seem ugly, selfish, invasive and oppressive. Decades ago when he drank and was determined to master the art of a misspent youth, she could muster a silent glare which can only be described as something between abject disgust and loathsome pity. He is grateful for the last 28 years of her life, he never had to experience her look at him in that way.

At other times, her caring could be simple and beautiful. His sons and her other grandchildren brought out a joy within her that was playful, spontaneous and so very silly.

And then there came a time her caring was rather remarkable. In those few months between diagnosis and death, which in hindsight felt like twenty minutes, her caring, delivered with an inexplicable selflessness no human should have to muster, was an incredible gift to those around her.

How tempting and commonplace to vault the undeserving dead to sainthood. He contemplates this dynamic and is aware he must resist this cliche. Indeed, she was human, imperfect. And at times a stubborn persistent pain in the neck. Yet during those last months while she had some fear for herself and her prognosis and what would lie ahead, her fear was never at the forefront of the discussion. To wonder, “Why me?” is only human. Yet he never heard her ask anything remotely like that. There was a complete absence of anger. Along with gracious acceptance at the relentless assault each new lab test and scan provided, the fact she cared so much for others became abundant and undeniably clear. The questions that plagued her centered on the well-being of the grandchildren, her nieces, her friends, her children. They ranged from guilt, “I haven’t passed on how to make chruściki,” to concern for the comfort of others, “Keep the eulogy short , don’t make it too long for people to sit through.” He knows she understood the challenges he and those she cared about would grapple with when she would no longer be at their side.

Sometimes he envies those who achieve great comfort from the misused passage which says “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath prepared for them that love him.” for he is not given to a belief system that lends itself to the notion she now sings and dances among angels. “She’d rather be here,” he thinks.

Today, it shall have to be enough to bring her, his father and the others who have left - into his heart and in his actions. They have helped shape who he is, who he will continue to become and feed his motivation to care for others.

I miss you with all my heart my sweet sweet mother.