AN AFTERNOON WITH MOM

Just sitting on the porch shooting the breeze

“There’s a train leaving nightly called ‘When All-is-Said-and-Done’”. From “Keep Me in Your Hearts for a While” by Warren Zevon

Been thinking lately about the book, “Tuesdays With Morrie” by Mitch Albon. It’s a beautiful little book wherein the author, Morrie Schwartz, chronicles his weekly visits with Mitch Albon who is battling ALS. It is not sad or depressing. Instead, it is a warm memoir about the conversations between the two men, and about Morrie’s reflections on his life and the world. Now my Mom, Elaine, does not have any discernable disease. It’s just that after 93-years of fierce independence, forward thinking, vigorous exercise, and shooting from the hip, she is running out of steam. It happened rather quickly over the past seven months or so. Her walking declined, she stopped driving, she has become frail (something I thought I would never see), and her razor-sharp brain has begun to dull around the edges. It’s kind of like she is slowly evaporating, and I do not have any means to stop it. Helplessness is a feeling I have rarely had in my life. I am a fixer, but I cannot fix this. Just like I could not fix my Father’s battle with prostate cancer, my Father-in-Law’s battle with Parkinson’s Disease or my Mother-in-Law’s brief battle with COVID related pneumonia.

I have been very fortunate in my life in that 49 years ago (when I was 15) I met my soulmate so, in a sense, I had two sets of parents to support me and learn from. My Father’s battle with cancer was only three years, but I watched him morph from a handsome, strong, brilliant man into a pained relic. My Father-in-Law’s lengthy battle with his disease was protracted and difficult to watch. My Mother-in-Law’s battle was, for better or for worse, shockingly short. Just 10 days and it was over.

My Mom’s battle is different than the other three. It is almost like she was a powerhouse and then the next day she was not. My brother and I shop for her, visit her multiple times a week, take her to doctors’ appointments and try to rally her once indominable spirit. We are in the process of getting her aides and triggering the coverage of her long-term insurance. As my Mom is frequently want to say, “this is a shit”.

It is not my intent in this writing to whine or complain. Every human who has ever lived, and will ever live, if they live long enough (and if one or more parents or other loved ones lives long enough) will at some point experience the shift from being taken care of to being the caretaker. So, I know that what is taking place in my life is not unique to the human experience, however, it is unique to my experience in that it is happening to my Mom. Sometimes to the chagrin of my family I am an open book. I often share what I am experiencing, feeling and/or thinking. It is cathartic for me, and it may help others to understand that they are not alone with where they are at in their lives.

All this being said, I woke up this Sunday morning with the intent of riding about 30 miles on my bike and then going with my wife to the home of dear friends to hang at their pool. However, as I was getting ready to head out on my ride, Mom called. She was quite sad and cried. She once more lamented about the recent decline in her body and that this is “the end”. My amazing co-pilot (a/k/a Wife), Annie, who has known my mother for 49 years, jumped in and said that she would go over to Mom’s house and hang with her for a while and that I should go on my ride.

Following my ride, I got my car and was driving to our friends’ home when my Mom called. Annie had left by then and was already at our friends’ home. Mom said that she was still very down and asked me to come over. I parked my car, went around back to our friends’ pool and told everyone, admittedly without great enthusiasm, that I was going to go over to my Mom’s house.

When I got to Mom’s she was in her bed. To put that in context, my Mom typically got out of bed by 5:30 a.m., went to the gym (following the pandemic she worked out at home), went shopping and perhaps went to either the Hudson river or some local place to walk. That meant that by the time I would speak to her for the first time on any given day at 8:30 a.m. she had already done more than most people would do in a full day.

I seated myself in a chair next to her bed and listened to her for a while. She then said that she did not feel like talking, and asked if we could sit quietly for a time. Again, for context, my Mom has always spoken her mind and talked a lot, and the family joke is that I was born talking and have not stopped since. It actually was nice. We sat in silence for a while. She then said she would like to sit outside on her porch. It was beautiful out there. Not too hot (my Mom has always hated the heat), breezy, and a blue sky.

As we sat, we reminisced. She again wanted to hear details of my son’s wedding two weeks before which she chose not to attend because it required lengthy travel from New York to Los Angeles. We talked about those who have died, missing friends and loved ones, her art work, my myriad sports related injuries, my psoriasis that seems to have gotten a bit worse since my second bout with COVID, her family (especially her grandchildren and those who have spouses), the first baby bird I rescued when I was a little kid and how we learned to care for it, subsequent baby birds and how one of the birds was a rare woodpecker and the Bronx Zoo took it. We talked about life, aches and pains, summer vacations in Montauk long ago, how my Father could never remember where he parked the car, Chinese food on Sunday nights, music, and everything else. It lasted about three and a half hours. We laughed, we cried, and we held hands. It was perfect.

Eventually I left. Instead of meeting up with Annie at our friends’ home, I went back to our home to reflect and write this.

Here are a couple of my take aways from this afternoon. I love you Mom. Yes, in one way or another we spend some portion of the rest of our lives trying to get over childhood, but Mom you were (are) the shit, and thanks for it all. You helped me to feel good about me being me (as far as I see it, the ultimate gift a parent or other loved one can give to a kid).

I want to get in as many of these afternoons as I can while we still exist on the planet at the same time.

Finally, and follow me on this one, the universe sprang into existence as a result of the Big Bang 13.8 billion years ago. The Earth existed for 4 billion years before humans showed up, and will exist for 4 to 5 billion years after the Earth becomes uninhabitable as a result of the Sun swelling during its life cycle. So what does that mean? Well, for one thing, it is a miracle that anyone is born, and that our lives are so short that they do not even register on the cosmic scale. Whether our story ends when we pass on, or whether we go to Heaven or are reincarnated or whatever, in some ways does not matter. This brief existence will be over. What a waste it is to spend our lives hating other people for whatever reason. What a waste it is to listen to those who hunger for power tell us whom to avoid, ostracize, subjugate, ignore, admonish, etc., and what a waste it is to actually listen to and follow those assholes.

I’m going to spend as much time as I can with my family and friends, relish my time with Mom, and just try to be the best version of me that I can (that’s the only thing I can control). Peace.