Mom
My mom passed away in 2020, right in the middle of all the mayhem. We don’t believe it was related to the pandemic; none-the-less, it still took us by surprise. She succumbed to a long battle with dementia. What made matters most difficult for all, is that most of our relatives live out of state and out of country. Air travel would be requirement at a time when group activities were not advised. Still, my brothers and I rallied and were determined to have a ceremony, albeit small, to celebrate a woman that has meant much to us.
I thought I knew my mom, but apparently she led two lives, the one she shared with us and the one she reveled in with others. It’s not that we didn’t see her in mixed company, we did on many occasions. But it’s interesting how you can only see your mom from your own childhood view, a mother-son perspective. No matter what she did, she was our mom, not a woman, spouse, aunt, nurse, benefactor, or worshipper. There are, by the way, many more things she wasn’t supposed to be but listing them all isn’t the point. My mom was a complete woman in her own right and many—many, called to tell my family how much she meant to them and was there for them in their time of need. The refrain, “My mom? She did that?” got old after the first day of condolence calls. There were many more days to go.
I’d always believed that parents work hard to give their best to their kids, to sacrifice their life so their kids can achieve more, do more, enjoy more. This is especially true for immigrant parents who make the sacrifice to change everything they know and cherish for a land of uncertainty, just for the hope that things will be better for their kids. I was one of those kids. I did achieve more than my mom when it came to education, earning potential, mobility and travel. All the things we value as a society. It’s an embarrassment for me to acknowledge, however, that the things that are most important to achieve in life, really have nothing to do with commercial opportunity, they have to do with personal relationships, something my mom excelled at. She shied away from no person, regardless of station in life. She sat with and engaged the influential and beleaguered with equanimity. Her purpose was seemingly above the fray of life that we all trudge through, sometimes aimlessly. And her attempts to teach us the methods of her art were somewhat unappreciated by her kids preferring to pursue their own interests. Many a time, my mom pushed a phone to my ear to talk with a total stranger who may have changed my diaper some time ago. How sweet, huh? Not! I often complained, “Who is she? What do you want me to say?” My objections were often loud enough to likely be heard on the other line. My mom was teaching me that staying connected to people, to friends and family, is important. It was a lesson I had little interest in in my twenties and thirties. I was too busy getting the things that needed to be got. Well, I’m older now. My mind has slowed, my pace too. The world is finally moving by at a regular speed and I’m taking the time to see it all. I now realize the getting is a distraction. It’s the giving—smiling, engaging and comforting of others, that really matters.
I’m sure some of my mom’s efforts have rubbed off on me. My wife claims I talk to total strangers with alacrity. I haven’t really noticed. Maybe there’s something in that. Maybe I’m not a lost cause after all. I still want to make my mom proud. She was good woman and lived a good life, and I love her dearly.
Bye Mom.
© Eric Clark 01/04/2021
