In Memory of My Mom

I did it again today.  I turned to the telephone thinking I'd call Mom.  It was a very brief lapse of reality, but it surprises me that seven years later, I still want to call my mother and discuss something with her.  We rarely had really long talks, just lots of snippets whenever the need to chat presented itself.  Towards the end of her life, I could barely talk to her.  My throat thickened when I tried to get the words out.  I remember one perfectly beautiful early evening when we should have had a talk.  My sister and the girls were out.  I was sitting by her bed in my wheelchair (my leg was broken).  The outside door to her room was open.  It was spring. The air smelled sweet.  As the sun set, it warmed the room. I heard children playing across the street. Mom was in and out of consciousness.  She wanted her dog to sit on her bed, but Mitzi was like me.  She was sad, and no matter how much she loved my mom, she would not get on the bed.  My Trixie came to the rescue. She snuggled up on Mom's side, and didn't move.  I'd never seen her so subdued and gentle. Mom and I both petted her.  I kept sitting there thinking, Say something! Now! You might not get another chance.  But I couldn't talk, and I still feel incomplete (guilty?) for all of the things I wish I had said. But we communicated in a way.  When our hands touched as we petted Trixie, we'd stop petting and hold each other.

April 11 marks the seventh anniversary of Mom's death.  What I could barely survive one day at a time has now been survived for 2,555 days.  What follows is the eulogy I delivered from my wheelchair with a three year old Billie sitting in my lap, trying to make me not sad.

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     I used to get really frustrated with my students who wouldn't write because they didn't know what to say.  They never shut their mouths in class, so how could it be that they didn't know what to write on a piece of paper?  Well, I understand very clearly now because of the difficulty I've had starting this eulogy.  I wanted it to be so right, so perfect, that I couldn't even start it. I wanted to make sure I did my mom justice.  Finally, I realized I don't have enough words in me to do her justice.  So, I'll share my memories with you and hope that you all will continue to share your memories of Mom with us.
     My mom was a lot of fun.  All of us have memories of the good times.  I can remember sitting at the dinner table many times over the years, drinking coffee, eating dessert, and laughing so hard that I'd have to make a dash for the bathroom.  Mom liked a party.  She went on cruises with my sister and her friends...maybe some of you have heard the story about the nude beach or the scavenger hunt on the ship.  Ask Helen, she'll be happy to tell you. The D'Apriles hosted the annual Labor Day party for many years.  Dad would often be in bed long before Mom even got home.  Probably the most fun my mom had was when she hosted the traditional Christmas dinner at our house.  Fifty years of dinners!  All the relatives came and families grew, but we always managed to crowd around the dining room table for dessert and family stories.  No matter how much work it was, Mom was always happy at the end of the day as she tucked away the china and silver for another year.
      My mom was full of love.  Never did we experience it more deeply than when the little ones came into our lives. First came Lien and Laurel, Mom's unofficial grandkids.  Mom babysat them, went to their school events, baked Laurel her apple cakes, and remembered them every birthday.  When she finally had her own official grandchildren, she was thrilled.  I remember the moment she and Reba met for the first time.  It was at the D.C. airport.  Helen held Reba as she introduced them and they just stared at each other, sizing each other up.  After that, the whole family practically lived with my sister in Virginia.  Billie came to live with us about a year ago.  She made Mom laugh all the time with her funny expressions.  Billie is a real waterbug, so Mom was well-known at the swim club.  She took the girls there on many hot days and jumped in the water with them.  Everybody knew Reba and Billie's grandmother and everybody called her by name, Bubbe.  Each weekend when I'd call home, Mom couldn't wait to tell me the latest Reba and Billie stories.
      My mother was generous.  In the lean years when I was a new teacher, I never came home to visit without having gas money tucked in my pocket before I left.  She took us and our friends to plays, out to meals, on day trips, and insisted on picking up the tab.  Her generosity is a legacy left to her children.  I know that I give freely in the way my mom did, as do my sister and brother.
      My mother was strong. She was very ill these past few years, but she was determined to live for her children and grandchildren for as long as she could.  Whatever it takes was her motto.  We were really lucky to have doctors who saw Mom as a person.  Dr. Morgan, Mom's dialysis doctor, was an angel in all of our lives.  I was constantly awed by my mother's determination.  I remember one time when she had to have surgery to open up a dialysis access that had clogged.  Because my dad was seriously ill and she needed to be able to go to the hospital to be with him as soon as possible, she took the surgery without the anesthesia.  Having recently had surgery myself for the first time, I can't imagine how she did it.
      After my Dad died, Mom went to live with Helen, the girls, and my brother.  We laughed about the Snyder Compound, but it was truly a wonderful living arrangement.  Although the noise could be deafening at times, there was nothing more melodic to my mother than the sound of her children and grandchildren laughing.  My siblings took great care of Mom.  When she could no longer drive herself to dialysis, Glenn was up at 5 in the morning, three times a week, to take her.  The care my sister gave her allowed Mom to come home at the end and spend her final days with her family.  Whenever she was awake, Mom would say how glad she was to be at home.  I cannot thank my sister enough for making that possible for my mother.  The one thing Mom was concerned about was that we would take care of each other after she was gone.  I think in taking care of Mom we learned to take care of each other.  And maybe that's why she was finally able to let go.
     We will miss our mother.