Memories of My Mother
Where do I even begin? My mother meant the world to me, and now I’ve lost her. It’s been a difficult time this past month or more, but not nearly as difficult as it was for her. She showed such strength, all the way to the end. She made an effort to get to know everyone she met in each of the hospitals and other facilities, to learn about their country of origin and their culture. My father even kept a list of all the countries she’d met folks from and she loved seeing that list grow (I think it hit 23). She was so often smiling and making those around her smile. She gave us strength when it should have been the other way around.
As I sit to write this I think back on so many wonderful memories I have of her and all the different experiences we shared. I love going on road trips with my family and I have many fond memories of my mother on these trips. Even on days when the fog had set in and there was little to see, we still had a great time.
In 2009 my entire family packed into a car and drove out to the Western Shore region of Maryland. One of the sites we visited was Piney Point, where we walked along the piers near the lighthouse. It made for a long day, but the weather was very pleasant and I think we all had a great time.
Later that year my mother and I made a trip, just the two of us, to Brookside Gardens in Maryland to visit their wonderful butterfly exhibit. She loved seeing all those butterflies flitting about. And at least one of the butterflies loved her.
In 2012 we found ourselves in Covington, Virginia, where we visited Humpback Bridge, and my mother, my little photographer, had a great time creating many photos of her own, as well as unexpectedly posing for a couple of mine.
2018 found us at Meadowlark Botanical Gardens in Virginia, home to a beautiful Korean Bell Garden. I was fortunate to capture this moment when my mother and father gazed up, admiring the craftsmanship.
When I was younger we would often watch Bob Ross as he taught his style of painting on the PBS stations. In 2019 the Franklin Park Arts Center in Purcellville, Virginia, hosted an exhibition of his work. Thankfully, my father, mother and I were able to visit this while it was open. I think my mother really enjoyed getting to see the actual paintings Bob Ross had created.
In 2020 my family had a small visitor to their back porch in the form of a little grey tree frog. My mother and I were likely far more curious about this little creature than it was about us.
A very personal memory I will cherish came on April 8th, 2023, when my mother made pierogis for the last time. Years ago she’d make them herself, but over the years she accepted help from us, and this year I rolled out and cut the dough for her so she could fill and fold each pierogi. I’m so glad I took the time to do this with her.
Another short moment my mother enjoyed, much closer to the end, was after a series of storms moved through the area. From her hospital room on the 7th floor we watched as the clouds cleared and a rainbow formed. And not just any rainbow, but a double rainbow.
But of all these memories and more, of all these views of my mother, I think the way I will always remember her is as she sat on a stone wall along Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park, leaning against and hugging my father, both smiling. It was a beautiful day.
I want to thank everyone who made a positive impact in my mother’s life. And I want to thank all the doctors, surgeons, nursing staff, food and cleaning services, and everyone else in the several hospitals and other facilities in which she spent her last month. She enjoyed meeting all of you, even under such circumstances. Thank you to those who helped ease her suffering at the very end. My brother, father and I appreciate all you did for her. And thank you most especially to those special people who showed that extra level of compassion and became close to my mother in her final days. You brought comfort not only to my mother, but to my family and myself. I can never thank you enough.
And now I’m left with a final set of words, ones I may never stop saying:
I miss you, Mom. I miss you so very much.