Three hundred, sixty-five days today, my mom passed away after a heroic, vicious battle with ALS.
And just like that, life changed. I called my brother from the car and then had my moment. Or maybe two moments.
Days before, I squeezed her little hand and told her thank you for being our mom. It was sunrise and there was this warm glow in the room. It was quiet and peaceful I squeezed but she could not squeeze back.
As I squeezed her hand and rubbed her head, I prayed God would free her from pain and this monster called ALS.
When she was diagnosed on July 12, 2021, none of us were prepared for the beast, ALS.
When I got on the plane that morning, I rested my head on the window of the plane and silent tears fell. I prayed some more. I wanted my mom to be free. And at peace.
Now she was.
I turned my car around in a church parking lot. I called my husband.
Then, I called the funeral home. Ironically, they told me that my mom would be flying back to Pennsylvania on an Amazon plane, filled with Christmas presents. You will never know how fitting that was for her.
I was going back home and my daughter would be there. I was sucking it up. I had not seen my daughter in months and I wanted her to have a great homecoming.
I promised myself that day in the car, that I would mentally spend at least five minutes daily with my mom. And reflect.
My mom, like every mother on this planet said often and with venom, "You are going to appreciate me when I am gone."
In those 365 days of daily reflection, here is what I learned or had reinforced. (in no particular order)
2. Call somebody. Don't text. Call. Talk. My mom was nonverbal for over a year. God does have a sense of humor but what I wouldn't do for one more conversation with my mom. So, make the call. It does matter. Tonality changes everything.
3. Whenever my brother or I would have a "moment" when we were feeling sorry for ourselves for whatever reason, regardless of our ages...my mom would say in a real mom like voice, "Are we having a pity party, are people coming over, should I bake cookies, appetizers? Let me know how many people to expect."
We hated that so much. Her anit-pity party attitude had a huge affect on me and my brother.
I was a senior in high school, days away from the senior prom, where people went with people, never stag, and I didn't have a date. Worse than that, my bestie did not have a date and I knew she was prom queen because I helped to count the votes. I had to call and tell her mom to get her a date, which she did...but...still no date for me. I was sitting in my mom's "chair" while she was on the phone with a girlfriend...and she says so I can hear, "I have to get off the phone...My daughter is dateless for the Senior Prom and i have to get ready for her Pity party today". Oh, I wanted step on her foot so very hard at that moment. She comes over and says, "Get over it. It will work out or it will not. Either way, you will be okay. It will be okay. This is not the worst thing that will ever happen to you, although it does seem " Two days later, my friend came up to me and said/asked "since you do not have a date, and I do not have a date, let's go to the prom together." We had a blast. Best Prom Date ever. My mom was correct.
I have looked at her situation with ALS, nonverbal, immobile, could not eat or swallow, these three things for a year. She didn't feel sorry for herself. She was pissed but she never had a pity party. Nobody comes anyway.
About six months before my mom passed, a few friends came to visit her. Remember, my mom was nonverbal. These friends commented on "how pleasant my mom was". After they left, I commented to my mom about how her friends thought she was so pleasant. My mom reached for the pad and wrote, "I am only nice cause I cannot talk. If I could talk they would know how pissed off I was that I had ALS". I laughed. I laughed so hard. She never complained. We never had the pity party.
3. Send cards. Birthday cards, 'No real reason cards", anniversary cards. Just send the darn cards. Let people know you care. Send cards. They are the only good things that come in the mail. Won't be hard to spread sunshine.
So funny, mom loved sending and receiving Christmas cards. When she could no longer use her arms, she was not going to send the Christmas cards. I told her "No way. If you don't send a card, folks will think you died, not knowing she had been diagnosed. I will write a letter for you to insert inside your card." She did it. At her celebration, a lady came up to me and told me that she always loved getting a card from her at Christmas. She said, if she had not received the card, she would have known something was seriously wrong. When she read the letter, she knew it would be the last card she ever got from her. The card made her step up as a friend.
4. Write down recipes. Don't text them or email them, write them down. The value is immeasurable. I have a box of recipes, all hand written, from my great grandmother, mamaw, Aunt Judy, Mona and my mom. There is batter splattered on some, my mamaw drew pictures on one and my great grandmother just wrote "throw in salt, add a couple eggs and add more sugar if you want". I laugh every time I make those recipes. I "feel" them.
5. Wrap gifts. Forget the bags whenever possible. Wrap the gifts. Use real ribbon whenever possible. The presentation sells the gift.
6. Even though your family is flawed, love your family. You are also flawed. Love them. We all have a nut job in the family, make them "your little nut job." And laugh with them. Love your family and stand up for them when they need you too.
7. Sometimes you have to do things you do not want to, do not like and hope you never have to do again, but you do them because it brings someone joy. Suck it up and do it if it is going to give someone joy.
9. Just because you cannot speak, your eyes can usually tell what you are thinking.
10. My mom always told me, "If you ever have a son, or a husband (she was convinced neither would ever happen for me) and they start talking about their feelings, shut up. For Goodness' sake, let them talk...and listen. They usually will talk when the lights are off. Let them talk, do not talk and listen." My mom and I had great talks the last year. She could not say anything, she just listened and she would write on word comments for me to take with me..."Ridiculous", "non-productive" and "idiot" were my favorite take aways. She listened.
11. When just about everything else has been taken away, let someone have their dignity. Make it about them.
12. Cookies matter. Perfectly baked cookies matter. Especially when they are inside a Christmas tin.
13. I have tried to live my life with "what would Jesus do?". Now, it is more like "what would Jesus do? and what would my mom think?". I was faced with situation shortly after mom passed, a situation I never thought I would find myself in and all I could think of was "what would she want me to do?". When I was certain that I knew, I acted with confidence. I knew if I had called her and explained the situation to her, she would have known exactly what to do and how to do it. So crazy, I could hear her telling me what to say, when to say it and nudged me to put my hand on my hip for extra drama.
15. And finally, my mom always said "I am so proud as a mother that you and your brother have such a great relationship. It is the thing I am most proud." My relationship with my brother, I am certain was always based on, "he's a nut job but he is our little nut job". Now, it means something so different to me. I am always sad when siblings "don't gel" or "haven't spoken to them for years". Sad. And now when I look or hear my brother's voice, I realize this is it...one of us is next...and the "Bahneman, family of 4" will be done. It is different now. We have always had a great relationship but now it is different. It is just us. I cannot explain it, it is just different. In a good way but in a finale sort of way.
Like just about everyone I know, I lost a mom. What I gained by having her as my mom, will always be immeasurable. I have changed as a mom. I am a better person. She would be proud.
And now, the year is up. I can hear my mom, "did anyone come to that pity party? No. Get off your ass and move. Life is too short. Don't waste time on feeling sorry for yourself, nobody else is." Damn, still hate hearing this, but I know it is correct.
So, here's to you mom and to all the other mom's we have lost. I am up and moving, thinking of you hourly and being the best version of myself (most of the time).
Thank you for everything mom.
