Thinking about Eternity

Twenty-six years ago today was a Sunday in 1983. I remember it clearly. Mom died that morning. We'd been up to her home and to the hospital to visit her numerous times that summer. We knew months before, right after Christmas, that her cancer was back. After her surgery, 4 years previous to her death, she had had a very good first year and the doctor gave her a report of "a clean bill of health." Supposedly the cancer was all gone.

So in 1982 when her voice was squeaky at Thanksgiving and still squeaky when we got back to her place at Christmas, I was concerned. That January Mom went to the doctor. It then was a long 9 months of treatments and dying.

But today, I don't want to write about her illness, I want to write about her. She was 57 years young, too young, when she died. She missed seeing my first grandchild by 5 years and 1 month. I've never stopped missing Mom.

Her life and her death produced a cadence and significance in me that I recognized soon after she was gone.

Mom survived hardship and troubles and rarely looked back. She was born in America's South and told me and my big sister when we were little, that she always wanted to leave the South because she couldn't stand the prejudice and mistreatment of black people, and we saw that first hand as we went to visit mom's parents when we were very young in the early 50s.

So Mom married Dad, a California soldier, when WWII ended. I told that story here on Mom's birthday. So no need to repeat it now.

Some of the things I am remembering today and thinking about -- when Dad first left her, she had to go out into the workforce to support us. She went to work in the office of Red Star Fertilizer Company in Downey. I can just imagine what a "sh__ty" job that was (sorry I just couldn't resist). I don't know how long she had the job or even how long she worked because she eventually married my stepdad (a wonderful man) and gave birth to her only son, my half-brother and again was a-stay-at-home mom.

What I'm remembering most today is that after Mr. Fun & I got married, Mom wished us the best and hoped the best for us. When my stepdad moved them about 150 miles and a 3-hour drive north of here, near Bakersfield, my mom never complained. My stepdad was a farmer at heart and needed to get out of the metro-Los Angeles area.

Mom must have ached to leave behind a daughter, a son-in-law and an 8 month old grandson. That grandson's childhood is now filled with wonderful memories of long summer stays at Grammie's house in the country. She loved boys and knew how to make him feel comfortable, confident, and content. I think he would have lived there forever if she'd have invited him. She was wise enough and loved me enough to know not to ask him. She also loved our daughter, but there was a bond with that first born grandchild, a male, that couldn't be missed. She must have cried for days when he'd go home after a long stay in summer.

When Mom died, our son was about to be a senior in high school. He was a pall bearer at her funeral. I'm not sure that her death had the same effect on our son as it has for me.

At the beginning of Mom's 9 months of dying, I thought she'd live . . . the medical people would solve her health problems. I now know that "Experience is what you get when you don't get what you want."

When Mom died, I began in some small way to understand the measure of a day and the measure of a life. I was 33 years old. Mom knew me as a high school dropout and the daughter who got married at 15. I knew she was glad at the time for my 18 years of marriage to the guy who turned out to be my best friend. What she didn't know is that a year and a half later I'd be enrolled in college, 6 years later I'd have 3 degrees, and next week I will step into my 19th year of teaching. My mom wouldn't be proud, she would be pleased (she knew nothing about pride).

In recent years I've had a couple friends die at 57. At each of their funerals folks were invited to come to the microphone to share a memory or special thought. In my heart of hearts I am not a public speaker, but both times I had to get to the mic to tell the story of Mom and how her life has forever fueled my life for the better. I know that who I am today is a direct result of Mom's short life. I felt that the adult kids of my deceased friends needed to know that.

I've never stopped missing Mom. I look forward to Heaven and seeing her again . . . she had made her reservation . . . her name is written in the Lamb's Book of Life.

Today, I hope you don't mind that this is long,
but I'm thinking about eternity.
Thanks for reading this far.
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol

P.S. Hug your mom, hug your dad, and take lots of photos of them. I have few of my folks. This is Mom with my older sis and me in the early 1950s.

"Experience is what you get, when you don't get what you want."