Mourning Mom

 

It's taken me a while to come to grips with my mother's death. It's been nearly a month. I cried when she died, but I have to confess that I was also relieved. Mom was 97 years old. She had been an independent person her entire life. When she declined very suddenly in October she lost that independence. Our last visit was to her facility with a plexiglas barrier between us. She was unhappy when I insisted she give me her checkbook. That was the last vestige of her independence. I wonder if that was the beginning of the real end. She contact me off and on insisting that she needed money to buy sweaters from a vendor who used to come into her facility or for gifts. She was very insistent on being able to do that.  

Our last visit without supervision was September. We all wore masks. She got to hug her great grandson and read a book with him. She was still living independently although I worried that she was self isolating herself too much. Her facility was on lockdown although independent living residents could leave. She turned down several opportunities because it was so difficult for her to ride in a car. 

Before the pandemic I visited her regularly for lunch and to help write checks. I would often bring her pictures of her great grandson. Even now as I contemplate having pictures printed I have to stop myself from including Mom in the count. 

Mom grew up in the Great Depression in an Italian immigrant household which, while they valued education, didn't value it as much for girls as for boys. She graduated from high school and was offered a half scholarship at a nearby college. She couldn't accept it. If she had I would probably not have been born. She wouldn't have met my Dad. Despite her lack of college she held jobs that had been previously held by men. However, her first job out of high school was as a seamstress while she took night classes at a local business school.  She could type faster than anyone I have ever known. She also had a terrific eye for detail. My son gave her his papers to check over for spelling and grammar when he was in college. When he posted a collage of her with her great grandson he said he wished he had had one more year. So do I.