“You’ve been a great mom. You always did a good job. Always worked hard. You’re my best friend. God bless you.”
These were my last words to my mom. My mom. The person who was so delighted to become a mom. The person who raised me to be a kind, compassionate human being.
As I sit here this Wednesday evening on a slightly chilly October night, I am reminded of so many good times we had. Like the tears that are flowing as I type this, the memories are flooding back.
One thing mom was good at was planning trips. Before the Internet, there was the Southern Living travel guide. It was located in the very back of the magazine. It featured various hotels and destinations one might want to visit. One year, she found an ad for a Holiday Inn at Folly Beach. It was a bright pink stucco building and right on the ocean. So, when I was 14, this began the many summers of just the two of us spending a week at Folly in the summer. We did this every year until the Holiday Inn became another hotel. Then it became another and another….until it was so re-done we couldn’t recognize it. I guess I spent about 15 summers with my mom doing this trip.
Travel was a big part of growing up. Mom would plan special trips for me, her, and my dad to take. She wanted me to see the United States. Mom found out about riding the Amtrak Train. We saw so much of our country by taking the train. We flew a few places as well. My mom planned trips to Vermont, Maine, Quebec, New York, Washington DC, Texas, Louisiana, Washington State, Oregon, British Columbia, and several others. I was able to experience so much of what America (and some of Canada) is about.
Our biggest trip that just the two of us took was the one to Hawaii in July of 2001. After I graduated high school, we said we’d go to Hawaii, but didn’t. After I graduated from Winthrop, we said we’d go to Hawaii, but didn’t. So, after I graduated from Carolina with my Master’s degree, we said we’d go to Hawaii…and we did! I will never forget catching the bus from the airport to go to the cruise ship, rounding the corner, seeing the mountains meet the sea, and hearing my mom say, “this is what Heaven looks like.”
It was a perfect, magical trip that we always remembered.
Mom taught me that, as an educator, EVERY child matters. Because she grew up poor, sometimes skipping buying lunch in order to buy school supplies, she knew what it felt like to go without. When she worked the school store at Speers Street, I swear she went in the hole helping the kids who wanted to buy a shiny pencil or cool eraser with a few extra cents she pulled out of her jeans pocket. Mom looked out for ALL the kids. She paid attention to them; listened to them. She loved them and they loved her. I still have her former students contact me on Facebook from time to time to inquire about her or just want me to pass along a “hey” from them (I’m talking to you Synethia, Tonya, and Tameka.)
In the end, for about 5 years, Mom had a rough road. A botched knee surgery left her unable to walk and confined to a wheelchair. A doctor’s careless use of a dirty needle at the eye specialist led to a terrible infection and the loss of the remainder of sight in her good eye. But you know what? She was never bitter. Even though she could no longer drive, no longer scoot to town to go to the Wal-mart, she was happy being at home. Dad and I made a promise to her in 2019 when the health issues began. We told her we’d never put her in a nursing home. We honored that promise. Dad was her primary caregiver. He lifted her, fed her, and cared for her. He’s had his own health issues, but he always powered through for mom. While they would have words every once in a while, they truly loved each other. They were married for over half a century. That’s a long time.
As I sit here, listening to the oxygen pump flow, I am thinking of all the walks we shared, the times we played badminton after supper in the backyard, the pizza suppers cooked on the old wood stove on a Friday night, all the sacrifices she made to be sure I had all I needed and wanted. My mom. The one who made every holiday special. My mom. The one who always listened (especially in college, when we ran up that $200 long distance bill.) My mom. The one who was always there for me. My mom. The one who I could talk to every day on the phone, sometimes twice a day. My mom. The person who knew everyone I knew and enjoyed knowing what they were up to from Facebook posts. My mom. The one who made me, ME. My mom….I love you and until we meet again….save me a seat on that bus to Hawaii (Heaven.)
That's So Fletch 
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