On December 27, 2009–one day shy of a month ago–my mother passed away from complications related to a cancerous tumor and the resulting treatment. She was 69 years old. And when I saw her semi-conscious for the last time before she died, I barely recognized her.
Coping with her death has not been easy–which is to be expected, of course; the loss of a parent alters the definition of who you are as a person. There is now one less person in the world who can claim me as her son. And I have one less parent, obviously; one less person who can discuss at great length the events of my childhood–good and bad–that shaped the person I am today. One less person to remember how old I was when I took my first steps…one less person to recall what my first word was…one less person with whom I can reminisce about those simpler carefree times (simpler and carefree for me, at least).
In an effort to help me come to terms with this life-altering event, I plan to chronicle some of my thoughts here in my blog, using one of my preferred methods of expression: the written word. This is the first of what I hope to be many posts about her.
My mother and I did not share many common interests, but to her credit, she did her best most of the time to try to relate to me. As a child of the 70’s–and male–I became fascinated with the movie, Star Wars when I first saw it in the theater at the impressionable age of seven. Not a fan of science fiction–or fiction in most of its forms–my mother patiently indulged my obsession from a comfortable distance. But her lack of appreciation for the movie and its sequels did not prevent her from many a thoughtful gesture. For example, I remember coming home from school one day to find that she had bought me a Star Wars item that had somehow escaped my notice up to that point: bubble gum cards with images from the movie. The brittle pink stick that came with the cards resembled gum in only the vaguest sense, but we aspiring collectors couldn’t be less concerned with that–it was the numbered and color-coded cards we coveted. Even though I wasn’t with her in the grocery store that day when she bought them for me, I can still picture her now in my mind’s eye, a hint of a smile on her face, knowing how much I would enjoy such a simple thoughtful gesture. Little did she know that I would quickly become an avid collector, dumping a considerable amount of money into a relatively harmless hobby. But even had she known, it still wouldn’t have stopped her. I still have those cards, stored in clear plastic sleeves enclosed in a binder on my closet shelf. And I have her to thank for that memento.
Another Star Wars-related memory about my mom… When I was ten years old, I remember accompanying her on a shopping trip to the K-Mart near our house around the time The Empire Strikes Back was about to arrive in theaters. I stumbled upon an aisle in the toy section filled with action figures from the yet-to-be-seen sequel that I had been anxiously awaiting. I remember feeling overwhelmed–and, I must admit, almost intoxicated–by seeing my beloved characters in new costumes, accompanied by mysterious and intriguing new heroes and villains portrayed in plastic. And again, my mom patiently indulged my obsession by agreeing to buy me a few of these new action figures to add to my already impressive collection. And on a later trip to that same K-Mart, I can remember her relenting and buying me a new X-Wing Fighter to replace the one that had seen better days from the exhaustive regimen of daily activity it was subjected to by me. I remember noting how expensive of a purchase it was for her, but that didn’t stop her from yet another thoughtful and loving gesture on her part–knowing how happy it would make me.
Believe it or not, my mom even agreed to accompany my dad and I to the theater for one of our many subsequent viewings of Star Wars (in the days before home video)–despite the fact that she had little or no interest in seeing it. Even as a seven- or eight-year old boy, the selflessness of her gesture was not lost on me–even though I think it was several trips to the concessions counter that helped her pass the time that Saturday afternoon. Though I do remember her laughing uproariously at the cantina scene, for some reason…
As I read over what I’ve just written, I think (and hope) the type of person my mother was will be revealed through the recounting of my memories of her. And those of you who may be reading this without having known her will be introduced to the simple, yet surprisingly complex, quirky, principled, opinionated, loving and thoughtful person that I fondly remember my mother to be.