Mom's Birthday

Mom’s birthday is a couple of weeks away. That day will also be the 7 month anniversary of her death day.

Although I only saw her a couple of times a year during her last few years, I miss her. She started to miss me before she died. The last time I visited her in New Orleans, she didn’t remember me. She sort of figured it out on the last day of my stay, but by then the damage was done. The reality had set in. Her mental health was failing, as was her physical health. This situation was inevitable, yet it was still a surprise to me.

The previous visit included a 94th birthday party for her at the nursing home. She was alert then, knew what was going on, who was there, why they were all visiting her on the same day. Her brain moved slowly by then, but it still functioned. I needed no introduction.

That week she told me many stories about her life I had heard numerous times, but she also told tales that were new to me. Like how she got the job where she met my dad. The incredible, it-almost-didn’t-happen story. That amazing example of fate – she bumped into a friend while walking down Canal Street, the friend said she had just been turned down for a job but “hey, you’d be perfect for it.”

Mom never thought she’d live into her 90s. People of her generation had a life expectancy of 60-something. I’m certain I’ll see 90. I actually want to see my 100th birthday. But can I tell you I’m a little scared about that?

Why?

Because I am afraid of failing health, failing mental capacity, diminished mobility. None of this has happened yet in my f-f-fifties, but the fear is real. OK, I’m not the only person with this phobia, but that doesn’t make the fear any less real.

Do you ever think that far ahead, to your 80s or 90s, and try to picture it? In the mid 21st century, we’ll laugh at our primitive I-pods. “Did you really have a telephone, Bernie? And you had to push buttons with numbers on them to talk to someone?” “Welcome to the Smithsonian. Over here is our currency collection, featuring the very last Reagan five-dollar bill.”

Mom saw some amazing things in her life. When she was born early in the 20th century, there weren’t many cars, phones or indoor bathrooms where she lived. Arizona and New Mexico weren’t states yet. Forget TV, there wasn’t even radio! Airplanes … a novel idea first successfully used a half dozen years earlier. Motion pictures, men walking on the moon, computers … all science fiction. Two World Wars? What sick individual imagined that?

I wonder if she feared getting old. I know she feared dying. She feared being alone in the nursing home. She got worked up over things that might happen even though they weren’t likely to happen. (Hmm, so that’s where I get that). I have similar fears. And for years I feared losing her and Dad. Death is part of life, but I’m afraid that idea doesn’t always sink in.

My fear of being alone as I grow older is real, but as I close in on what would have been Mom’s 96th birthday, I realize that she is in my heart and my thoughts. So I guess I didn’t really lose her after all.