Now There's a Little More Slaw in the World For the Rest of Us

It is with heavy heart this evening that I inform you that my mother passed away this morning.

We were not expecting it, but we are comforted by thoughts and prayers of those around us, and the fact that Mom is at peace, and no longer facing any tooth-pulling, radiation, or surgery. She had a wonderful 80 years, and only fell upon ill health in the last ten weeks.

My sister the ex-mayor's wife was taking Mom to the dentist today, to see about some teeth that her radiation specialist said were still in the way of her standard treatment for the squamous cell carcinoma she had removed from her cheek in November. Sis had asked the nursing home, where Mom was undergoing her rehab since her seizure in November, to have her up and done with breakfast by 8:30 so she could pick Mom up for the appointment. The staff called Sis at 8:00 and told her that they had found Mom unresponsive in her chair, and they were calling the ambulance to take her the three blocks to the hospital.

That was like Mom, to sit down to watch TV, and nod off to sleep in the recliner. The doctors don't know if she had a seizure, a blood clot, a stroke, a heart attack, or complications from the meningioma they found in her head just before her skin surgery. All they can say is that she did not suffer, and she did not know what was happening. We know that the nursing home staff, the ambulance crew, and the hospital team did all they could to revive her. Mom appeared serene and untroubled in the final moments we spent with her.

I was fortunate last week to spend five evenings with Mom. Thursday we had perhaps the best visit since her unfortunate incarceration stint in the hospital and rehab. She was clear-headed and pleasantly surprised to see me, since I had originally told her I would not be able to make it that evening, due to The Pony's Scholar Bowl schedule. We talked about some old times, and we drank ourselves some beers...WAIT! No we didn't. That was Paul Simon. And just like wine and heroin are not offered to patients in a hospital, contrary to my old pulmonary embolism roommate's beliefs...beers are not allowed in nursing homes. Besides, Mom only indulged about once a summer, when my dad was alive, while watching a Cardinals game on TV, when Dad would holler down from the kitchen, "Want to split a cold one?"

But seriously, Mom and I really had a good chat Thursday evening. She tilted her head back and laughed out loud, like I hadn't seen her do in quite a few weeks. She leaned forward and listened intently to my inane stories of my work life, and asked pertinent questions without forgetting any details. Sis, who was able to visit every day, said that Mom DID seem more animated on Tuesdays and Thursdays. For which I took full credit, though Sis declared that my evening visits must have been what put Mom in a less-than-ideal state of mind on Wednesdays and Fridays. In all actuality, it probably had something to do with her medicine dosing. All I know is that Mom would perk up when The Pony was with me, or when her great-granddaughter's name or Genius was mentioned.

I'm not meaning to be flippant. Mom appreciated my sense of humor. She always said I was just like my dad. Now she's with him, and not alone in that big house anymore. No more worries about the snow in her driveway, or the man across the road spying on her, or her mail lady taking cards meant for Mom, or those checkers out at Save A Lot gypping her on her slaw.

So tonight, or tomorrow, or the next time you strap on the old feedbag...lift a spoonful of slaw to celebrate her life and her passing.

I love you, Mom. I will forever be your Five Dollar Daughter, and fondly remember that time you thought I was a Ten.