ItGoesOnWisdom

Freestyle

By Laura McCollough Moss

I started to cry on the I-190

Just before the dreaded exit

"What's the matter, Honey?" she asked,

rhetorically.

"Don't do this, Laura."

The number 6 off-ramp loomed

and threatened.

"I'm going to be fine."

Where did it come from

the strength, the calm?

Try to put yourself in her place,

Lying expectantly in your backless gown

and paper hat,

Terry gripper socks on your feet.

The pre-op IV flowing in but they tell you

they can't give you anything 'good' yet.

The waiting, waiting, waiting

"Why don't you guys go have your lunch?

I'll be fine here. There's no

reason for you to hang around."

And we left her there

glad to be spared the going-away party.

Shedding tears at the ATM,

morose over the day's special.

Eight-and-one-half hours they worked

She had plainly expressed her disapproval of

 such an aggressive procedure.

"If you can't get it all, I want you to close me up."

They forgot

or hoped against hope

or took advantage of the teaching opportunity

Whatever the reason it got ugly but they did their best.

She was a ten-day girl.

Ten days at Roswell,

Ten days at Rehab. and a little while in between before

Ten days of Hospice.

She's gone now

gone

And I'm preparing to trade the Freestyle.

Her chariot of fire.

She was there in the passenger seat,

Lamb to lion

and I didn't know it would be so hard to

let it go.

"She wouldn't keep the old thing,"

Daddy Mike consoles me and I have to laugh.

That's the point.

firstbirthdaywisdom

Here it is. I knew it was coming; my first birthday without my mom. As anyone who has been through this knows, and there have been many, MANY before me, for a year, every event will be a first. Susie had a wonderful sense of occasion, and our birthdays were a big deal.
Last year was another story. Bud was post-op, sick and confused; he actually went into the hospital with pneumonia the following day. If you've ever had a birthday where you just wanted to forget about it, that was the one. We started the morning at a medical appointment where a doctor pretty much laid some bad news on the line, and I sat in Falconer Park crying for an hour before I could get it together and go to work. I don't recount this for any kind of sympathy; it was what it was. Just putting it all in context.
That evening my mom made dinner, had cake, etc. but we were all a bit deflated. My wonderful Aunt Sarah was there. The two dear ladies did their best to be festive, and we went through the motions. Feeling on shaky emotional ground, I skimmed quickly over my mom's card; not wanting to succumb to the meltdown that threatened. She gave me a beautiful angel figurine and money; apologizing that she hadn't been able to shop. Of course it didn't matter; we vowed to make up for it next year!
Next year, as it turned out, was not to be. And I'm so glad I didn't know. As difficult as the events the year following a death can be, could you imagine knowing, the year before, that each event was a 'last'? I never would have made it, I can assure you. As Garth so eloquently sang,
"And now, I'm glad I didn't know,
the way it all would end, the way it all would go,
Our lives are better left to chance.
I could have missed the pain,
but I'd have had to miss the dance."
And so it was, this morning, that I tore through my drawer of cards past, opening them and looking for last year's birthday card from my mother. At last I found it, and for the first time really read it. We had been through a lot at the time, although not nearly all that awaited us. I know she chose it carefully, and I regret that I didn't acknowledge that at the time, because I couldn't. I know she understood. It reads:
For Our Daughter
A daughter is your heart's delight-
it starts when she's a tiny thing
Who charms you with her every smile
and sweetly makes your spirit sing.
Then as she grows, your love grows, too,
she seems to weave a magic spell
That fills your world with tenderness
and wonder, more than words can tell.
One day, you turn around to find
a lovely woman, fully grown.
She's graceful, strong, and confident,
with talents of her very own.
You smile and thank the stars above
for all she is and all she's done
And celebrate the depth of love
a daughter brings to everyone.
                 J. Hund
Inside it says
Dear Laura
You're a special gift
to the lives of so many people...
especially ours.
Happy Birthday
And in her familiar handwriting-
"The card just cannot say all the words that need to be said.
We Love You, and Thanks, Mom & Dad."

I love you too, Mom & Dad, and I have never for a second questioned your love for me. I have been so very lucky to have you both as my parents. We have a bond that can't be severed by hard times, even death. And a network of amazing family and friends. I wouldn't change a thing.
Happy Birthday to me.