I Remember Mom

A Nod to Loretta Lynn’s “I Remember Patsy

Mom and I were very close. That comes at least partially from me being the baby, by over seven years. It was never discussed, but I have more than a sneaking suspicion that I was an “accident” planned by Mom because she loved babies. Older kids, not so much…they were harder to pick up, and “talked back.” But our connection didn’t break as I got older. 

I would always be her baby, and I was OK with that…most of the time. Since my brothers were so much older, I was her companion for well after they graduated and moved out of the house. I lived with her after she and Dad got divorced, until I finished grad school and moved to San Francisco. 

Emotionally, I think she was closer to me than with my brothers despite the distance in miles. That distance became even more pronounced when Danny and I moved to “another country”, Hawaiʻi, in 2019. That might have been softened a bit if she’d been able to come visit us, as she did pretty much annually during our 21 years in SF. But now we live in a place that was exotic to her, unknown, and in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. (Hawaiʻi is, after all, the most remote island chain in the world.)

Over my nearly 60 years, we were together for many milestones. The obvious ones – graduations, recitals, performances – and the not-so-obvious. 

Like driving me on my paper route when it was raining, or snowing (warming our fingers in the vents), or Sundays when the load was too much. (Yes, I was spoiled…) Actually, those Sunday deliveries stand out, because she’d drive us to the bakery after to pick up a coffee cake for breakfast before church.

Like passing along the baking duties the minute she realized I had an interest. I think was about 8 years old. Mom was a more than adequate (though not particularly inspired) cook, but it was definitely not something she loved doing. To this day, I still love baking. Hmmm…I haven’t made Tollhouse Cookies in ages!

Like providing so much emotional support throughout school when I was harassed for being overweight. God I hated PE, especially in junior high, which seemed cruelly designed to humiliate those who are not athletically inclined.

Like loving me when I came out…she was the first family member I told. She cried, worried about how life would treat me, that I wouldn’t give her grandchildren (TBH, I think that was the biggest one for her, and while it certainly could have happened, that was a pretty distant reality in the 80s). But she also told me she loved me no matter what. 

Like the holiday visit after I’d first met Danny. He and I had chatted on the phone and it didn’t go well, from my perspective. I can’t really remember what it was, but the call ended with me feeling like he wasn’t as into it as I was. (I was wrong…oh so wrong.) I was a bit teary after the call, and mom asked me what was wrong. I told her I’d met someone, and that I think he’s the one. (I was right…oh so right.) She cried again, but definitely happy for me.

Her many trips to San Francisco provide fodder for just as many fond memories. 

Because our birthdays are one day apart, and exactly 35 years, we celebrated milestone birthdays together. Like going to Yosemite for her 80^th, and my 45^th. We saw a momma bear with her two cubs…a little too close for our own good. And it snowed…in July!

Another birthday – I don’t remember which one – we decided to take her up to Napa for a dinner and an overnight stay. For some unexplainable reason (Danny knows…), we had three vehicles at the time: an Infinity G20 sedan, a tiny Subaru Justy, and an old Toyota extended cab. As we were packing to leave, we discovered the G20 had a flat tire and there was no way to get it fixed fast enough (might have been a Sunday…I don’t recall). The Justy was way too small, so our only option was the truck. Mom insisted on sitting in the back seat…which for those of you who don’t know, is TINY! She never did let us live that one down…

She was there when we purchased our first home. Danny and I had a lot of work to do before we could move in, and she asked if she could help. Danny had her on her hands and knees pulling staples out of the hardwood floors so they could be refinished. Interestingly, something about our buying a home together solidified our relationship in Mom’s eyes. It’s not that she didn’t acknowledge us as a couple. But we definitely noticed a change.

For these and many other reasons, Danny and I will forever remember her oft-repeated refrain (said with a mix of exasperation, affection, and humor): “You’re trying to kill me!” (I’ll also admit that was mostly said to Danny, as he was often the source of pushing Mom to do more.)

She was there when Danny and I got married on July 3, 2008. Although there were earlier windows of opportunity, Danny rightly wanted to wait until it was ‘really’ legal. So, once the decision was in for California, we sprang into action and planned our wedding in under three weeks. Mom had already planned a visit close to the day, so extended her stay so she could witness us ‘making it legal.’ She even helped with all the planning, including wrapping little gifts for guests. She cried. I did too.

Perhaps my source of greatest joy and connection to Mom has always been music, particularly singing. Although she did not enjoy the spotlight, the sheer beauty of her voice meant she was asked to sing solos with the church choir now and then. The last time was so long ago, I don’t really remember much about it except thinking “that’s my mom up there!” 

Because of her, I started singing in church choirs when I was six. Because of her, I started taking piano lessons…and even the string bass…in the 6^th grade (I should have started sooner, I guess, but Mom and Dad never wanted to push their sons too much). Because of her (and, yes, my Dad’s passion for opera), I never doubted my path in life was music. And although I never made a huge career singing, like I’d originally imagined, music was and is the most important thing (not person…that would be Danny and our families) in my life.

Mom also molded my personality more than probably any other influence, though I know I have a lot of Dad in me too. I prefer peace over conflict; I like to give and receive affection (yes, I’m a hugger!); I tend to worry too much about what others think about me; I love holidays and old movies (Mom and I used to watch Family Classics every Sunday); I’m an easy cry (yes, including while I’m writing this). The list goes on.

We also differ in many ways. Although I certainly experience self-doubt, Mom was often crippled by it. That’s why she and Dad remained married for some 35 years, when the relationship should have ended years if not decades sooner. That’s why she never pursued a career in singing. That’s why she preferred young children over teenagers. And so much more.

But despite all that, she was one of the strongest people I know. Despite experiencing an overbearing mother, and then an overbearing husband, she retained a sense of humor and independence that blossomed after their divorce. She owned and managed a successful daycare center and was an active member in a national Early Childhood association, even making presentations and conferences. Even in retirement, she was in demand with regular requests to substitute for teachers and even daycare directors, and co-founded a program, Parent’s Day Out, at her church, First United Church of Glen Ellyn, that has since grown into a full-fledged nursery school.

Mom, I miss you so much. You gave so much to me, and to all those who knew you, but asked for so little in return. Sometimes, you took that to an annoying level. I mean, for goodness sake, the folks working at the assisted living place you were in for the past 4.5 years are there to help. Ask for help! Then again, you always had a little “task” for one of your boys (and their spouses) whenever we visited.

Sundays…like today…will be hardest, as we talked on the phone every week at around 10am HT. But I think I’ll continue our conversations anyway. I know you’ll be out there, listening.

Mom always ended those calls the same. “Give a hug to Danny. Scratch Ella behind the ears and tell her that’s from Grandma. And if you can find the kitties, give them a scratch too. I love you!”

I love you too, mom.