Mom

Close to two months (actually in two days) have now gone by since my mom passed away.
I knew all along that I wanted to write about her and the loss to me and my family, but I also didn't want to write anything too quickly.
First of all, there was just so much going on, time was tight and I didn't want to seem like I was making the piece about myself at a time when the focus should be on her life.
I also didn't want to add to the outside family dynamic with anything that I write because my goal is to be honest about my belief in who she was, not to glorify her but talk mostly about the good without ignoring the bad.
Today would have been her 71st birthday and I've been working on this for a while to be ready for today.

My mom wasn't always an easy person to figure out.
At times, she could be charming and a person that would do anything for you, which made her very vulnerable to people that could take advantage of her good nature.
She could also say terrible things to provoke you into responding to her anger.
Like her son, she was easily hurt and could hurt others easily, often without even realizing it or with malicious intent.

Mom was a person that loved her children and grandchildren with all of her heart and would do anything for them as well.
She also had problems relating to them as they reached their teenage years and adulthood, but that didn't mean she loved them any less.

Mom could be something of a paradox, she loved unconditionally, but often that love came with an amount of smothering and need that at times I needed to get away from and that would cause a new set of problems.
I almost think she loved me too much and that love caused more than a few problems with me through the years.
Those problems weren't all on her, I had more than my share of the blame too, and much of those might have been avoided if Mom would have understood that I needed to step away and if I would have been mature enough at the time to try to explain myself better rather than withdraw completely.
I'm not sure that she realized that one person's way of loving (or living) isn't always right for another
and different doesn't always mean right or wrong.

Mom threw herself into my childhood and she was the little league mom that today would have been all over the news, yelling at umpires and arguing with other coaches and fans.
But she was also the same person that took over a league that was threatened to be abandoned if no one would run it.
Not only did she run it, but she was also the force behind getting concession stands built that remains there to this day.
The facility that is currently at that site was built on the foundation started by my mom because she cared about kids.
Mom also volunteered at my elementary school when I attended as well as after I left home and her employer closed their doors, Mom volunteered at elementary schools with children that were struggling with learning how to read and she didn't take the easy schools either.
Mom would go to the worst schools in the county, work with those children, and would eventually substitute teach at elementary schools.
Mom also helped out at nursing homes and her last job was as a receptionist at a nursing home, which she was perfect for and that was the job that she loved most.
If her health wouldn't have declined so drastically over the last few years, I think she would still be working in that job.

Mom was almost always the parent involved in taking me to do things or anything I was involved in.
In 1978, I attended my first NBA game at the Capital Centre between the Bullets and the visiting Phoenix Suns (my favorite Western Conference team) and since I'm me, I'm rooting for the Suns, I started catching some comments from the fans around me.
Mom started telling them that I could root for who I wanted and by the end of the night, she had gum stuck to the back of her coat, but I rooted for who I wanted to.

Mom also took me to my first-ever wrestling card in Hagerstown when the WWF hit North Hagerstown High School with a five-match card.
I've written many times about rooting for the "Heel/Bad Guys" in my youth during the days when wrestling fans took things far more seriously than is done today, so of course, I was rooting almost alone for the bad guy- Superstar Billy Graham (sadly during his kung-fu period, not the innovative Superstar of years earlier) against the popular "Polish Power" Ivan Putski.
I was yelling and cheering for Graham and so Mom was rooting right along with me for the Superstar!
Mom wasn't known for her love of wrestling, so I asked her why she was rooting for Graham because he wasn't the good guy.
Apparently, Putski said something that was "foul-mouthed" and she wasn't rooting for him!
Graham lost by disqualification (of course) and we left the arena among cheering fans, but I've always remembered Mom on that night, rooting for the guy no one else was because I was rooting for him.

Mom always struggled with her health and for a long time, I assumed that she was a hypochondriac.
I still think that there was some support for that theory, but I began to believe that she felt pain differently than others and therefore caused many of her problems.
I'm sure readers will remember the sign at the doctor's office that will rate your pain threshold from 1 to 10 with the accompanying stick photos?
My dad and I used to tease her that her icon would have been about two sheets to the left of one!
I thought it strange at the time, but now I wonder how much her pain sensitivity shortened her life.
Mom constantly was looking for the magic bullet that was going to make her life better and from my childhood, I remember a parade of medications, operations, doctors, and about any medical gadget that you see sold on television as part of the relentless attempt to make her life better.

Few worked for more than a while, but what I blame most on Mom's decline was an undiagnosed problem with anesthetics.
Mom saw my grandmother's success with knee replacement and instantly wanted her knees worked on.
Mom worked a hard, physical job for most of her working life and I have no doubt that her knees and legs did hurt, but I also believe that search for the perfect fix came into play.
One of these surgeries was botched and she never really recovered from that as she slowly had issues with her feet becoming massive and her mobility decreased.
This is where pain tolerance comes in because in any rehab situation, there is pain involved as part of regaining strength in the operated area.
Mom couldn't/wouldn't tolerate the rehab exercises, therefore nothing improved, and continued to flow downhill.
By the end, she was essentially immobile and dependent on my dad and grandmother for the simplest movements.

Cherie and I took her out for Mother's Day last year to her favorite restaurant and it would take 15 minutes just to move her from the car to her seat, so she was frustrated with her not being as active as she once was.
Mom was the grandmother that loved to go to the park and romp around with her grandkids, so this frustrated her very much and caused her a great deal of anguish.
Over the final decade of her life, whether she realized this or not, she became less pushy and as she asked for less, it became easier for me to deliver more.
She still called, but the days of four and five phone calls a day were long past and she even began to realize that some things simply aren't going to work- no matter how much you wish, hope, and prod for those things to happen.
As a result, I don't recall the last problem that we had.
She was bothered about my children not coming around very often and never understood why even when I tried to explain ( and not necessarily agree) why so.
I almost always over the last decade visited once a week and she would always ask how they were, "Tell them to come to see me" and as I would leave she would almost always say "Tell my girls (Cherie and Rachel) and my boy (Ryan) that I love them.
I felt helpless then and equally so now, trapped in the middle and understanding some of how both sides felt, but I couldn't help but feel bad as she desperately wanted to see them.
After her passing, some controversy ensued, and even though I have no doubt that Mom said some of the things before she died that were attributed to her as she could say almost anything in sadness or anger, I also have no doubt that she didn't mean them.
I followed the wishes out of respect, but I truly believe that Mom didn't have that malice towards her family over the long term.
After all, if you don't want people around, you don't ask about them every week and pass along messages of love.

It's only been two months and I have regrets.
Regrets that I didn't step in and try harder to seal a bridge, try harder with mistakes I made when I was younger, and even though some of what she wished I was unable to give- then or now, that doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it.
So many times when I needed to be away for my well-being, she would tell me that you never know when the last time you'll talk to someone will be.
I understood the words, but the truth of those words didn't hit home until she was gone.
The last time I spoke to her was over the phone and she wasn't hearing well or remembering as well either, but during a fifteen-minute call, while my dad was out, she asked how I was and in hindsight, that's a little odd.
She would often ask what I was doing, but very seldom how I was doing.
I wonder why she asked that.
Is it possible without realizing it, she wanted to be sure I was OK?

I wrote above that my mom loved too much and with me, I think that is true.
My mom lost a daughter that would have been a year younger than I and even though I don't think she actually talked about that loss in-depth with me more than a time or two, she did tell me this many times through the years.
My sister was born (and buried) in Ohio and my mom lost her while she was in a strange town, without her parents, and without her sibling.
She did have me and she would tell me she felt "a special bond between us because she gave me all the love for two children" during a time when she felt alone.
I felt that closeness as well and she knew how much I cared.

I'm sure in some ways it will be easier as time goes by, but there are always first times without her that you deal with.
First Christmas and now the first birthday without her has passed.
Mother's Day will be hard I'm sure, but then it's downhill with only my parents' anniversary and Thanksgiving to note.
It won't be easy, but the memories will take away the pain as time goes by.

Happy Birthday, Mom and I love you.

I would like to take a minute to thank the people that have checked on me and walked me through these first few months of uncharted territory.

Thanks to my lovely wife, Cherie for her love, care, and tolerance of things from the outside that she should have never had to put with.

Thanks to my terrific children Ryan and Rachel and my daughter-in-law Courtney for the same reasons and for helping their dad out.

Thanks to Fred Landucci, Mike Oravec, and Denise Nicarry for being wonderful friends that are really more family to us at this point.
A day rarely goes by without one or more of these three checking on me and I appreciate everything.

I'd also like to thank my Aunt Becky, my cousin Missy and my unofficial Aunt Gayle for talking to me at various times during this period.
Becky helped get me through an event that could have been very painful and showed me caring and compassion during a time that I needed love and not anger.

Missy talked to me one night and allowed me to vent so much of the good and bad that was part of the aftermath of Mom's passing.

Gayle lost her mom shortly after my mom and yet one day when I was down, she happened to check on me, and knowing there are always others going through the same things helps you feel less alone.

If I missed anyone, I do apologize- I've been working on this all night and I wanted to finish before Mom's birthday was over.
Thanks to everyone for reading.