My Mother's 8th Heavenly Birthday
47) A stroll down memory lane
It was a wonderful Saturday morning, October 1993, something like 67 degrees outside, and I was 12 years old, and I was exactly where I wanted to be, on a beautiful green soccer pitch playing in a game I loved. Then it happened. The opposing player kicked a soccer ball from point blank range right in my gut. I felt life come out of me, gasping for air. My coach was screaming at the ref to blow the whistle. The ref was like, “he’s not on the ground though”. The wind was knocked out of me, and I was just trying to catch my breath. That actually wasn’t so bad compared to what happened next.
My mother came running on the field trying to aid me to help me off. To say I was not happy with her doing that, is an understatement. I was beyond pissed off. I was the best player on that field. But, I was also a really tough kid that would rather die on that field than have my mother drag me off of it. (I know that’s not exactly a rational thought, but again, I was only 12 at the time). I was on the sideline for like a minute and the first half came to a close. I did play the whole second half of the game, but I wasn’t very effective. It wasn’t because I got hurt at the end of the 1st half, rather I was still really upset that my mom felt the need to come to my rescue.
I’m not sure why this is a lasting memory of my mother I want to share on her heavenly birthday, but it is. A psychologist probably would have a lot of fun unpacking all the dynamics of the relationship with my mother. And it’s true. I loved my mother very dearly, and was actually incredibly protective over her. She too was very protective over me (if you couldn’t tell already). At times too protective. Hence, why I was deeply upset with her for helping me off the field.
Yet, the story not only sums up the complicated relationship with my mother, but it also sums up the complicated relationship I have often had with the world. “Grit”, “Ego” and “Determination” can have a human being go far in life. But, too much ”Ego” is an incredibly destructive attribute.
My mother’s love for me was so unconditional, and at times so raw, I couldn’t always handle it. She raised me, and shaped so much of who I am. And yet, my time with her was cut too short. From the time I was 26 until I was 33, for seven years my mother was very sick with Alzheimer's disease. She spiraled downwards so fast, I’m not sure any of us quite knew what hit her.
While she got sick too young, and died too soon, I would be wrong to say she cheated me out of time. All she ever did was make time for me. From countless doctor’s appointments as a kid, to taking me to the theater on Saturdays, and the orthodontist on Sundays, to taking me every weekend of my Senior year of high school to just about every single small liberal arts college in all of New England. My mom always made time for me.
I was truly blessed to have a mother as active as her. To be around someone that cared so much about me and others. My mother Alice certainly was no saint, but she had certain saint-like qualities that anybody that really got to know her, couldn’t help but admire her for it.
Thank you to my dad’s first cousin Elysa for sharing this picture with me. How she had it, I don’t know. But, one thing that is always so cool is getting old pictures sent of me that I totally forgot about.
One of the hardest things for me was not understanding why everyone seemed to drop out of her life when she got sick. That was my mom after all. Why weren’t you there by her bedside as she spent her last years on this earth? That’s not to say my feelings aren’t or weren’t valid, especially since that was my dear mother. But, she wasn’t just a mother. She was a loving and caring wife. She was a loving and caring daughter. She was a loving and caring niece, cousin and friend. And yes, she was a loving and caring (albeit oftentimes combative) sister.
I don’t think I ever fully appreciated what everyone else was dealing with when she got sick. How much of a void she had left in other people’s hearts when she started her long slow (rather difficult) march towards the after-life. Even though I was wondering why they weren't there to see my mom more, or even just show up to comfort my dad, my sister and me. But, maybe pulling away is what some of my mom’s closest friends needed to do. I can’t blame them for the range of emotions they felt. The whole time my perspective was that of a beleaguered son.
I was the one blessed to be with my mom just about every step of the way during her last days on earth. My father and sister in particular, devoted their lives to my mom every step of the way until her death. They were the true heroes in this saga.
I share this story not to continue to cry about my mom no longer being here with me, but rather to celebrate the times I did have with her. All of them, even the memories that weren’t always as joyous. I especially like to celebrate my mom on her birthday. To me, when I think of my mom’s birthday, I get to look back on 32 distinct memories I have of my mother on each one of her special days.
Granted I don’t necessarily remember all 32 of the birthdays my mom had that I was alive for, but just from those 32 days, I have a wealth of remarkable memories. One that stands out to me the most was my mother’s 70th birthday. It was a cold February night, and it was just a few weeks before my eldest daughter Ava was born. My mom’s sister Ellen and her Husband Herb came from NJ for it. And my Dad’s younger brother Shelly and his wife Susan came out for it too. And of course, my dear sister Jessica, was there as well. It was honestly one of the best memories I have of my mom, during her last years on this earth. She was surrounded by so many people who loved her, and we got to give her a really special birthday, even with her in such poor health.
My mother Alice died 17 months later. I don’t exactly remember her 71st birthday quite as well, although I know my daughter Ava was there to celebrate it. Life sometimes moves too fast. It’s hard to believe that this is my mom’s 8th heavenly birthday. While, I’m sad she hasn’t been around to witness more of my life unfold, like the birth of my second daughter, Ella; I’m glad I get to continue to share my mother’s legacy and celebrate her birthday again with you.
Peace & Love
-JPJ
I also wrote something a few years back celebrating my mother’s first heavenly birthday. This one is behind a paywall. If you are so inspired to get a monthly subscription for $5 to read that story (and others behind a paywall) go right ahead. A better deal is actually a yearly subscription for $36. If you are hard-pressed for cash and you really want to read this story, you can email me at Joshoffhtepress@gmail.com, and I will comp you a month long subscription, so you can read this story or any other story behind my paywall.
I could really relate to your story and the way I, as a mother, always wants to protect my children. Your mom was always there for me and my students. She would always ask if I needed a student represented at an IEP meeting. Your mom was always there to support all the students. I could always count on her. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Your writing hits me on every level. Caring for my mom with Alzheimer’s for a number of years led me back to writing, and for a while much of what I wrote was the painful story of her descent from talented artist/writer to the loss of that identity. Necessary at the time, I guess.
Her recent passing, while enormously bittersweet, gradually flipped the narrative. This year I launched a reboot of the foodletter she wrote and illustrated for 30 years, sharing her with the world. Keeping her spirit and talent alive.
As you wrote, “not to continue to cry about my mom no longer being here with me, but rather to celebrate the times I did have with her.”