Mom, I Miss You…

In memory of Linda Caldwell 1943-2019

Two weeks ago, I woke up with plans to work on the half bath when the following text message came in from my soon to be 80 year old father “Mom passed out I called 911 she is on her way to er I don’t know if she will make it”.

A frantic phone call to my dad revealed a man in a state of shock, and the realization that this was far more than the myriad of lessor health scares my Mom has experienced over the past few years. He told me that the pastor’s wife (of my parents’ church) was on her way to pick him up and take him to the hospital. Grateful that he was’t driving, I implored him to keep me up to date. Then I immediately booked a flight to my hometown, Sacramento.

 

In the midst of frantic packing I learned that she had been moved from the ER to ICU and remained unconscious. My parents had long ago agreed that when the time came, they did not want heroic efforts to keep them alive, but would rather let nature take its course. In a FaceTime call with the pastors wife, she held the phone to my mother’s ear as I told her how much I loved her and that I was on my way to see her that day. Plans were made to move her to hospice.

Within five hours, I was at the airport waiting for a flight to my hometown of Sacramento. My dad and I continued to text, I sent him virtual hugs, I waited, I prayed. On my first leg of the trip, Philly to Phoenix, I paid the $16 for crappy WiFi for the flight allowing me to stay in contact with Dad. About two hours into the flight, I received another text from my dad “Mom has passed to her next life” and I lost it. Right there in my seat, surrounded by total strangers, I let it all out. I wailed, I cried, I sniffled, and I frightened the guy two seats over. Thankfully, the fight crew came to my rescue with compassion and plied me with wine as I did my best to let it all settle in… Mom, I miss you!

 

In the trajectory of life, if all goes as planned, the children outlive the parents, and so on, and so on. We always suspect the loss of one’s parents will be difficult and it is, and having lost my best friend of 21 years a few yeas back did help, but nothing can prepare one for the experience of what life will be without them.

 

My Mom was (God bless her) a very unique person, and not easily forgotten. As an only child, my Mom and I were very close. As a rebellious teenager, I put distance between us because I needed to find my own path. As an adult, we reconciled and I learned to accept her and all of her uniqueness (most of the time).

 

She still succeeded in embarrassing me on Facebook, she still did things which made my eyes roll (she tended to end every sentence with an exclamation point!), she still insisted on posting inspirational quotes endlessly on her Facebook timeline. But she never lost her intensely colorful and sometimes irreverent personality.

 

She refused to be boring by being her bold unique self, and telling the world… “I am here! Here I am!” She was an individualist before being one was cool. She loved to act up and dance because she believed in marching to the beat of her own drum without a care as to what the rest of the world thought. There was no question that she was unique in her sense of style and fashion. But most of all, she was famous for her love of hats and the color red.

 

She loved to decorate… I grew up surrounded by piles of decorating magazines. She did not hesitate to try out new looks for our house. I remember her painting walls black, buying store-bought art and embellishing it with her own added style (and glitter), installing mirror tiles on the ceiling above their waterbed in the 70s, and endlessly swooping and draping fabric across every window frame and anywhere else she thought needed a touch of her style. I remember specifically one wall in our house which was 12 different colors in 14 years. She was always trying to make her world a more beautiful place and by doing so brought joy to others.

 

She loved to travel, especially if that travel involved going to Europe. But she also enjoyed cruises and trips to New York City. She loved to share her travel experiences with others and always had a funny story about places she had visited.

She was always trying to bring out the best in people, always interested in others’ passions, always there to cheer people on. She would listen to their struggles, and always offer a kind word. If you were a first-time visitor to their church, she would have been the first one to greet you with open arms and a welcome smile.

 

She was a fighter. Through her many different physical issues over the years (and there were many), she kept on going and going. About 15 years ago, she pushed herself to get on the treadmill daily and exercise to improve her health. Through diet, exercise, and sheer desire to improve herself, she managed to lose 100 pounds and keep it off until the end. I believe those years of effort paid off for her and helped her live as long as she did.

She was a devoted wife to my father, always there for him, always cheering him on, always doing her part to keep the family together. She was a devoted mother to me. Always there for me, and always willing to listen in times of need. She loved us both more than anything in the world. All her life she wanted nothing but the best for me, and for me to find my own true love.

 

I think the happiest day of her life after getting married to my father and having me, was that day, nearly five years ago, that she got to see Y and I get legally married. Her dream was to see me find the right guy, fall in love, and get married, just like any other mother would. Neither of us dreamed it would be legal one day.

She beamed with pride on my wedding day, and I will never forget how her joy made my special day even more so. I remember her telling me afterwards that her work was done now that I was married off.

 

Mom, I Miss You!…

Arriving to my fathers apartment that night, we talked, we cried, we began to make a plan for what was next followed by a night of fitful sleep in their sofa. The next day, I secured a hotel room for the next ten days, I commandeered my father’s car in lieu of renting one as my father was in no condition to be driving and I picked Y up at the airport (he had to make arrangements for Bixby and close up the house).

A few days later, my 83 year old aunt, my oldest cousin, her husband, and one of their daughters flew in from other parts of the country and stayed at our hotel (I must note that our family is very small overall. My entire extended family beyond my father consists of one aunt, six cousins, and their spouses). Together all seven of us spent time together at Dad’s small two bedroom apartment and dining at chain restaurants (my first time in decades to all but one). I played the role of chauffeur, driving 400+ miles over the ten days. I also did all the things a son should do in this situation.

This past Saturday, we held a Remembrance Service at their church (the same church I grew up in). The pews were filled with nearly 200 people and the outpouring of love from everyone was beyond amazing. My mother had always suffered from a lack in belief of herself and really had no idea how many people she impacted. Honestly, I didn’t realize how many people she had impacted.

Since I moved away from home in 1986, we talked on the phone weekly, sent funny pictures via email (and later text), communicated on Facebook, and traveled to see each other probably 25 times. But it gave me great satisfaction to know that during all those years I was gone, she had developed (without any realization) a following of people. Not just from church, but from their local Peet’s Coffee in their old neighborhood and the Peet’s in their new neighborhood (of two years). There were neighbors from their old neighborhood, and neighbors from their current apartment complex. Members of my fathers model railroad club, and her nail lady of the past 20 years.

 

I could go on and on about her qualities, but ultimately, in the end, she had a heart of gold. She truly lived life like no one else you have ever known. My Mom is gone, but I am grateful that I got to be her son, and proud to say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

 

Footnote: I wrote this post not to garner feedback but more out of the need for me to process my loss as I am notoriously stoic. Writing about it has proven to be cathartic and beneficial for me.

For those of you who knew her, in lieu of flowers, we requested donations to the Central Downtown Food Basket of Sacramento, an organization in which she served as secretary during its early years.