Thirty-Four
She was 34 years old, 134 pounds, a mother of three and the wife of an assistant vice principal. She had short, thin wavy hair and a smile that could light up a room. She could knit Barbie clothes, make doll hats out of Styrofoam cups and heal a wounded heart with a hug. Her name was Jenny, but I called her “Mom”. At 34, she found herself on the cold, cement floor of our basement, with no knowledge of why she had fallen or how long she had been unconscious. The CAT scan gave the ultimate in reasons: a brain tumor. She fought hard, unwavering, valiantly, for 13 years. Years filled with triumphs, victories it would seem, times of high hopes when the word “remission” infused our vocabularies. But always, great sorrows followed. Grand mal seizures were always the best indicator that things were not going well again. At the end of it all, she had the life maximum of chemo and radiation that any person can survive. She had lived through two brain surgeries and outlived all the other patients in the experimental program by years. She was, according to her doctor, a miracle. She lived to see me get married. My wedding day was the last time I saw my mother alert, mobile and truly happy. Within a month she was bed ridden; within three she was gone.
I was in 6th grade at the time of that first fall and was pulled out of class to be told that a neighbor would be driving my sister and me home from school. The neighbor was the one to tell me my mom was in the hospital and in that second my entire life changed. Everything changed. I learned in that exact second what it meant to only have today and this moment. While I was blessed with 13 more years with my mom, there was never a single day that we took for granted after that. Each and every turn was a mystery and surviving was a gift. I thank God for those 13 years. I thank God for all the opportunities I was able to take again and again to show my mother how much I loved her, to learn from her, to listen to her. I have been told I see the world as black and white. More than once in my life I have broken off a friendship with someone who seemed to live as if time is of no consequence. People who lived as if perhaps tomorrow, or tomorrow’s tomorrow, they might stop and give pause to things that bring meaning to life, but not today. Today is all that we are promised. Today is all that I know I have. I will live all my today’s as if I may never have a tomorrow. I turned 34 today. 4 days before the 12th anniversary of her passing. I cannot imagine facing today what my mother faced at this young age. I could only hope to embrace it with the faith, courage and strength that she demonstrated to everyone that knew her. In the legacy of things my mother left with me I unwaveringly defend my need to see the world as finite. I will show people how much I care at every single turn. I will leave this earth with nothing left unsaid, with no questions weighing in on the hearts and minds of those I love. I will spend my days and my time on the things that are most important to me. I will not let my heart be drug down by those who do not feel passionately about living. Through her example, I will always know that life is not to be taken for granted.
I was in 6th grade at the time of that first fall and was pulled out of class to be told that a neighbor would be driving my sister and me home from school. The neighbor was the one to tell me my mom was in the hospital and in that second my entire life changed. Everything changed. I learned in that exact second what it meant to only have today and this moment. While I was blessed with 13 more years with my mom, there was never a single day that we took for granted after that. Each and every turn was a mystery and surviving was a gift. I thank God for those 13 years. I thank God for all the opportunities I was able to take again and again to show my mother how much I loved her, to learn from her, to listen to her. I have been told I see the world as black and white. More than once in my life I have broken off a friendship with someone who seemed to live as if time is of no consequence. People who lived as if perhaps tomorrow, or tomorrow’s tomorrow, they might stop and give pause to things that bring meaning to life, but not today. Today is all that we are promised. Today is all that I know I have. I will live all my today’s as if I may never have a tomorrow. I turned 34 today. 4 days before the 12th anniversary of her passing. I cannot imagine facing today what my mother faced at this young age. I could only hope to embrace it with the faith, courage and strength that she demonstrated to everyone that knew her. In the legacy of things my mother left with me I unwaveringly defend my need to see the world as finite. I will show people how much I care at every single turn. I will leave this earth with nothing left unsaid, with no questions weighing in on the hearts and minds of those I love. I will spend my days and my time on the things that are most important to me. I will not let my heart be drug down by those who do not feel passionately about living. Through her example, I will always know that life is not to be taken for granted.
Comments