When my son is 14, I really hope he's not the way I was in 1994.
It's not that I was "bad" kid, but instead I could have been accurately described as a a bit of a pain. In fact, I would attribute nearly all of my pre-teen transgressions to either pure stupidity or just waiting to get a laugh. Regardless, I must have be a handful for my parents especially my mom. I rarely had good grades and schools always seemed to be calling home about me, starting with Mrs. Devine in 5th grade and ending with Residential Life at Fordham. Throughout it all, my mom was always my greatest supporter. As I moved through high school and college she continually reminded me that, sooner or later, I would "get it together." When I got my Masters and started teaching, we were both able to smile that I finally had.
Last summer, my mom got sick. After a brief and difficult illness, she passed away on September 21st, one year ago today.
I've been avoiding writing this blog for 365 days. I wrote about my dad when he passed but have not been able to sit down and write about my mom. I couldn't bring myself to do it; it was just too hard.
There are things that I will never understand about my mom's death. I have a tough time accepting both how she went as well as when she went. The last few months of her life were not easy as we tried in vain to get her better. I will never accept that she didn't get the chance to meet her grandson, my beautiful son, Francis. I often imagine the two of them together and how much she would have adored him and while it can make me smile, it also leaves me sad.
While things were difficult at the end, I can't let it define the memories I have of my mom. Both of my parents were tremendously influential on my life and since they passed I have come to realize one very important thing: my father shaped the life I lead but my mother made me the person that I am. She was a wonderful, caring person who would do anything for you (unless you crossed her that is) and gave of herself to not only family and friends but strangers as well. She raised three children and managed to live with my father for almost 44 years, a challenge that I would put before any person. She had a career as a mom, secretary and grandmother while also finding time to volunteer at soup kitchens and beat lung cancer. My family and I met people at her wake who spoke of her as an amazing co-worker, neighbor and friend. We weren't surprised as much as we were happy to know that she nearly meant as much to others as she did to us.
She did everything for me, from the small but wonderful like writing my name on my lunch bags in calligraphy to the big and powerful like supporting me when times got tough. When I faced a major challenge in my teaching career she vowed to "write a letter" to the powers that be once I received my tenure. While she knew that I received my tenure (she was the first person I called) she never got a chance to write that letter before she got sick but it didn't matter. It was just one more example of her having my back, even though I was 30 years old and married.
As I write this long delayed entry, I realize that I cannot let the way that she died define the life that she lived. She was an amazing sister and daughter, wife, mother and friend. She taught me how to care for others, love my family and be strong in the face of overwhelming adversity. I think about her everyday and will always miss her but I am blessed to have had her for a mom.
