Tomorrow, October 5th, would have brought the celebration of my mom’s 99th birthday.
So many of my good friends lost their moms before they even reached age 30. I know they missed out on having their mothers there for so many family milestones, or just every day nice moments, phone conversations, shopping, lunches, and the like.
I know I was fortunate to have my mother in my life for such an extended period, for so many memorable and happy occasions, but also there with me when so many of our family members left this world too soon. With her passing, my remaining family network seemed to shrink.
The other day, I was talking to my brother and his wife by phone. We talked about those last months spent with my mom after she’d returned north and lived in an assisted living facility near them. She suffered a stroke just three months later in late February of last year. We’d had some really nice visits and a lot of laughs and my mom actually was starting to settle in and make some new friends.
One of the best outcomes was that she was able to spend what would be the last week of her life, in my brother’s home. She was weary, and I think having lost my dad ten months earlier, she was ready to call it a good life. She’d been restlessly searching for the home she used to know and had gone through a series of moves from New Jersey, to New York, down to Georgia where I’d remained, then briefly to Florida and then back to New York State.
Who wouldn’t be emotionally and physically tired?
On what would be her last day of life, my sister-in-law gave my mom a “salon” treatment. With her hair washed and some make-up, my mother rose to the occasion, captured in the photo above. She’d always had a glamorous presence. A coal miner’s daughter from a poor community in PA, she’d always longed for a better life and the excitement of big city life and enjoyed many youthful years in NYC.
It’s meaningful that she left this world looking, and capturing, the energy and aura of her younger days. For that I’m grateful. I was boarding my second flight in Charlotte enroute to Albany, NY, to see her when I got the news that she’d passed, stealing a page out of Rich’s “play book.” She knew I was enroute and that was enough. We’d said our good-byes on our last visit together.
My mom was very social and liked to have fun. There was a time when my entire family lived in Hackensack, New Jersey, residing in five different homes. I loved those days when we got to spend so much time togehter, and I’m so glad my late husband, Rich, got to experience that closeness when we first met in the early 90s.
With my brother and his family’s move to New York state, my move with Rich to the Jersey Shore in 1996, my brother Matt’s passing in 2005, and then my sister, Manette’s in 2018, that tight network slowly disbanded and we saw less of each other, but always remained close enough to celebrate special occasions together.
Having dealt with the caring for elderly parents, I know that like widowhood, facing our future is something we don’t do well. Just like so many don’t prepare themselves for the fact they they, too, may become widowed, many think they’ll never get to the point when they might need assistance as they age. My mom’s advise to me was to take care of my health, be smart with finances, stay in my own home for as long as possible, and employ outside help for shopping, cleaning and transportation. It helps to have a network of good friends, too. She didn’t always take her own advise, but she had learned as she’d gone along like most of us.
I know there are so many uncontrollable factors, but I will try my best to follow that advise, for there truly is no place like home, or having family nearby when they are most needed. Miss that every day.
My mother taught me to keep one eye on the present, with one on the best possible future. That was her gift to me, and I live each day in that spirit. Happy eternal birthday, mom. Loved and missed by many.
