Mom

So, you know how, as you age, your parents seem wiser with every year? Don’t know about you guys but on that pivotal day, long ago, when my first AARP sales pitch arrived postal, my sense of middle age “went postal” too. I thought, “I’m eligible for freakin’ AARP” and I still haven’t made any progress. Our family was just Mom and me. And I still had a lot to learn from Mom.

I was like, if I take really good care of myself, go to the gym, eat kale (or whatever) and look both ways before I cross the street (more slowly with every B-day) I might just make it to “100” and even get to see the Angels make it to the playoffs before Trout opens his AARP envelope. And I had good genes. At age-75, Mom was still in prime shape at 5-feet and 98-pounds; she didn’t walk, Mom ran.

Brother Jay and Dad had passed at age 31 and 66. Mom and I had become a team; we did a movie and dinner every Sunday. Mom became an Angels, Giants, Celtics, and USC fan and even engaged the neighbors in mostly friendly sports debates. We watched games together and I widened Mom’s vocabulary in ways I hadn’t predicted. I stayed at our family home. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Mom.

Most of the best life lessons I’ve learned have come from my parents. While I was being served notice by AARP, my mom was beginning a 10-year struggle with something far sneakier than even her youngest son. And the lessons continued.

Mom took every jab and haymaker diabetes could throw her way. And it seems like every time I walk through a parking lot, I can still see my mom looking up at me on the way to yet another doctor’s appointment, using a walker and saying, “I never thought I’d ever be like this.” For Mom, that one shared observation was the closest she’d ever come to registering a complaint.

And I always knew my mom was wise; and I knew I was loved, unconditionally. Mom was first generation Sicilian, so I never had to look for any subtle or unexpressed signs and symptoms to know exactly where I stood. Sometimes (often) I stood and took the fire I richly deserved…but there was always a lesson and a hug and a kiss that sealed the envelope containing my thoughtless behavior, leaving it in the past.

On Mother’s Day…and beyond, I remain standing in awe of Mom. While my mom fought through those last ten years, her dignity remained, her toughness grew, and her heart had room only for love. Instead of being bitter, Mom took on a sweet but ironic smile she’d share only with me when confronted by one more blindside shot the healthiest, most loving five-footer I’ve ever known never saw coming. Mom’s eyes said, “Yeah, take your best shot. we got this.” On the tough days we all experience, I think back to that smile.

It's been 25-years since I last celebrated Mother’s Day with Mom. But I’ll never stop being grateful for Mom and remembering her smile. And the lessons continue.