The older I get, the more I miss my mother. Now I am to the age she was for the last dozen or so years she was with us and I wish she was here to share this time with me.
When my mother was in her 50’s and 60’s, I was raising three kids, working as a substitute teacher, and hoping to find a find permanent job. It was also during that time that I began having symptoms of Parkinson’s disease, although I wasn’t diagnosed until after my mother passed. One neurologist had told me something was neurologically wrong, but when I went for other opinions, one university doctor said nothing was wrong with me and another one said my symptoms were caused by anxiety. Of course my mother had lots of suggestions on how to relax more and how to raise my kids.
My daughter was incredulous when I told her Grandma thought I wasn’t strict enough when she was growing up. She, of course, thought I was much too strict. Now I am the Grandma to her 2 children, ages 5 and 1 1/2. Her sister, who was a senior in high school when Grandma passed, is expecting her first baby in August. My son and his wife also have plans to start a family soon.
I no longer sleep through the night as easily as I did when I was younger. When I get up at 5 am, I remember how I used to admonish my mother for getting up so early when she was my age. I would tell her she should stay in bed until 7 and then she wouldn’t be so tired during the day. I don’t know how it got so hard to stay in bed in the morning, but I rarely stay in bed till 7 these days and yes, then I need a nap in the afternoon.
When my grandmother was in her 90’s and still living on her own, people would sometimes say I must have good genes and will live long. Well, my grandmother lived into her 90’s, but my mother only lived to 69. You never know how much time you have.
When my mother’s foot started dragging, she didn’t go to the doctor right away. I had a foot that dragged and the doctors had not been able to do anything for it. When she started having more problems, a friend of hers convinced her to go to the doctor. I had had lots of MRI’s that had all been normal, but my mother’s MRI was different. She had a brain tumor. It was January of 2000. By Labor Day, we would all have said our last goodbyes to her. It was hard to know what to say. If I could talk to her again, I would have a lot to tell her. I wish she could have been with us long enough to enjoy her great grandchildren like her mother did, but when my grandson was born on the anniversary of her passing, I knew her spirit is still with us. I know she is looking down from heaven and is happy that the circle of life goes on.
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