On September 4th

 

With Roxy

It was 9:55 a.m. on Friday.

Sep 4, 2020.

It was a beautiful morning. Warm with a clear sky.

I was scheduled to call Little League Baseball that night as sports tried to survive in the middle of the year of COVID.

But at 9:55 a.m. on Friday morning, Sep 4, 2020, I was stepping onto the front steps of the house to meet with an EMT technician who confirmed what I already knew: my mother had died.

In hindsight, the signs were there. You can go all the way back to her open heart surgery in 2013 as a starting point if you want.

Then came the beginning of the kidney problems in late 2017. However, she remained strong, even being able to drive herself to dialysis at times.

By late 2019, there were concerning signs, and, the following January, she went into the hospital. She'd move to another hospital before heading to a nursing home for a stint. She stayed there all of one night (completely miserable) before coming home. She stayed there for less than a week before going into another nursing home. 

She came out in March -- and we drove away as the world began to shut down. I think about that often.

She didn't drive much, even though she had me take her to Peekskill to buy a car. But I was to chauffer her around in that. 

In truth, despite fighting the title, I was her caretaker. I just always thought of her as too independent to need a caretaker. I wasn't alone -- my sister was right alongside me, along with my niece, Sean, and others.

Holding court with some of her grandchildren 
and great-grandchildren at 
Sean's graduation party, 2020

Yeah. There were signs. She made it to Sean's graduation from high school as well as his party in the backyard. She looked great and enjoyed visiting with everyone. Then she made it to her granddaughter's wedding outside of Albany that August where she was a rock star. But she also had to leave Albany the morning after the wedding to go get dialysis. That was her fourth treatment that week, which was unusual.

Two days later, she told me that she would be backing down from traveling. We had discussed doing something that fall and she decided to not go.

On her last day, she had two doctor's appointments, including a cardiologist visit. He told her her heart was failing. Badly.

Time was short but none of us thought it would end the following morning.

Three years have gone by. The process has been agonizing at times but we've simply had to move on. The first couple of times Sean and I traveled were awkward. The ghost in the car was a strong presence. The lack of a hand coming from the back seat asking us if we had any garbage was noticeable.

Sean has mentioned that there are times he still expects to have her reach for his arm to escort her through a parking lot.

We've adjusted of course. For me, it was like starting to live again, especially once the house was sold and we moved.

There's no question we miss her laugh and her joy. Oh, there were downsides, and the end was difficult, but we'd trade it all. 

There will always be stories to tell. Good and bad and that's just how it was. We told the stories.

2014

For me, I think I lean on the happy times of traveling, especially to North Carolina. Those became really precious times for her with Sean and we made a lot of good memories. We drove through Washington, DC on our first trip and it allowed her to share with Sean how she honeymooned there with my father. She was particularly happy to go to the Marine Corps Memorial in Arlington, VA with him.

And I'll always recall the Father's Day when we drove to Pennsylvania for a Waffle House breakfast and ate in the car due to COVID. We'd drive around that day to various places and she was content to stay in the back seat.

As we drove back through New Jersey, I had this sense that I should pull off into Butler, the town her family lived in when she was young. She told me the address and we found the house.

I choked back tears as I told her I thought she should show her childhood home to her grandson.

My suspicion was sadly correct. She never visited again.

If she's watching over us, I hope she'll forgive us for the myriad times Sean and I make fun of her for one thing or another. It's that humor that is the closest either of us comes to grieving.

In fact, I've still never grieved.

So we laugh instead and we do things to honor her.

We're going to have pizza today in her honor.

She'd like that.

The memories of Sep 4, 2020 live on. 

I went and called that baseball game, encouraged by literally everyone I spoke to. They felt it was, in fact, the place I belonged.

It allowed me to honor her by keeping a commitment. That was something my parents firmly believed in. It also allowed me to take a moment and talk about her during the broadcast.

Further, it put me close to family, whom I gathered with later on for dinner. And it was there that I met a black cat.

Funny how things work out.

Life, truly, has gone on. We continue to honor her.

Things are just different.

A few days after Mom died I settled in to eat breakfast at home. The house was quiet and I decided I wanted some music, so I asked Alexa to play some jazz. The first song -- at least that's how I recall this story -- was "Nancy (with the Laughing Face)."

I couldn't make it up.

Your "partners in crime" will raise a slice of pizza later to you, Mom.

Aug, 2020