She would have been 93 today; I'm so happy I was with her on her last, which turned out to be #87. I enjoyed sending her flowers on her birthday, and I actually still miss that pleasure.
They say you don't know what you had until you lose it, but I did. My mother was a hero to me. An immigrant, an extremely intelligent woman whose family prevented her from pursuing a college education out of an old-world sexism, she overcame plenty of barriers.
But you can't stunt a female mind simply by denying her access to higher education. My mother read and thought and felt deeply. I had some of my most rewarding conversations with her.
After my Dad died, I saw her as often as possible, though we were initially a continent apart; then quite a bit closer, until we were once again distant -- me in San Francisco and she in Lansing, Michigan.
I remember the day I found out she was dying. As I drove away from my office at Stanford, I glanced down at I-280 in a southward direction. The sun was bright; it seemed as if every crack and its filling was suddenly and brilliantly visible.
Like the lines on my aged mother's face, the highway beckoned me onward. I drove home, packed, drove to the Oakland airport and took off for Detroit. My little 8-year-old son insisted at the airport on going with me, and he did.
We both were there with her at her last moments of consciousness, as was most of our large, extended family.
Endings always are sad, but when it comes to a life, there's only so much point in concentrating on how it ended. In my mother's case, there were 87 rich years plus a couple months of mental acuity, and emotional connection. I never for even a moment doubted that she loved me, and I hope she felt the mutuality of our love.
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1 comment:
One of Dad's 3 older sisters (“Auntie-Ann” as we kids knew her when we were very young), she left a life-long impression on me (as I know she did for so many others). She carried a lot of her mother's pride and independence. Dad (who just turned 83 on the 2nd) has many fond memories of both ladies, their sharp intellect, and deep devotion to family.
God did not create human beings to be perfect; where would the humor be in perfection anyway? But, somehow, He graced some with extraordinary love, and others with priceless access to it. Your eloquent reflections of her here betray the miracle she has been, and remains, for you.
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