3lastnamesblog

Fifteen years ago at my father’s funeral my sister and I each wrote eulogies. At the shiva my mom asked, “What are you going to say about me, that I made a great banana cake?”Well it happens that a few weeks ago I told my mom that I’ve had that opening line to her eulogy for years and years. At first I wouldn’t tell her but then I thought why not; it’s not like it’s going to spoil it for her! So when I told her what it was she laughed and said “I still think the same thing!”

Due to my mother’s extraordinary strength, she was able to live alone in her home throughout her illness. Two weeks ago my mother called 911 and was rushed to the ER. Turned out she was passing a kidney stone- no easy feat for a woman in her condition. I came down to Florida and when I walked into her house I thought to myself what a beautiful, bright, spotless, airy, fresh home it was. Everything was in its place- the bed was made, no dishes in the sink. No one could ever tell that an old sickly woman lived there, let alone one who was rushed off to the hospital. If I had been rushed off by ambulance and someone came into my house, they would think it was looted. But my mother’s home looked like it could be photographed for a magazine. I remember thinking she will never get the hospice services she wants with a container closet as neat and organized as hers. But the epitome of her organization was leaving my sister and me all the information we would need to plan her funeral right on her kitchen table. Well actually, the note was addressed to just my sister. My mother had enough foresight to know that Marla would manage her grief by springing into action mode, while all I’d want to do is nap and have cinnamon Pop-Tarts (which of course, she had a box of in her pantry).

Somehow my mother was always right. I would speak to her every day on the phone and a typical conversation would go something like this…

” Hey Ma, what’s doing?

“What should be doing?”

“How do you feel?”

“Eh whatever, but what, you have a cold?”

“I don’t have a cold, Ma”

“Well you sound stuffy; you have a cold don’t you?”

Ma, I feel completely fine, I DO NOT HAVE A COLD!”

“Alright. What are you doing this weekend?”

“I’m going to the beach on Sunday.”

“Sunday? I heard rain for Sunday in New York”

“Ma, it’s supposed to be beautiful on Sunday. You’re telling ME the forecast for New York from Florida?”

Well, I never did go to the beach on Sunday…. because it was raining…and I had a cold.

Of course if you know anything about my mother, you know she lived for her grandchildren, Robby, his wife Lindsay, Sam, Julie, and Gabby. She somehow made them each feel like they were her favorite to the point that they would actually argue over it. Robby would say, “Nana loves ME the most because I’m the first born grandchild. Julie would say, “Nana loves ME the most because my mom and I lived with her and grandpa for 2 years. Gabby would say, “Nana loves ME the most because I’m the baby of the family”. And Sam would say, “Nana loves ME the most because she thinks I look like George Clooney!” But the love she gave them was only mirrored by the love she received. Seldom have I ever seen grandchildren that adored their grandmother the way they do. And to their credit, she was well aware of their adoration till her very last day.

Robby and Lindsay’s’ wedding was this past August (2012). We knew there was no way my mom was going to pass before then and risk dampening the festivities. She wasn’t able to be there but she was able to watch it streaming live on her computer, connected to her TV. Like everything else in her final years, she made the most of it. She invited friends and family, catered food and created her own celebration. She wanted to be included in all the talk and excitement and tried never to seem maudlin that she couldn’t attend, even though we all knew it was killing her inside. When my mother finally received the DVD of the wedding she spent hours and hours poring over the footage- rewinding, freeze framing, slow motion- it was like she was investing who shot JFK.

Gratefully, my mother’s mind was 100% until her last breath. Her friends and family were not ready to let her go, but she wanted to go. Independent and strong till the very end, she wanted to end her life on her own terms, with grace and her dignity intact- and that is exactly what she achieved.

And about that banana cake…Just a few days ago Gabby and I were cleaning out the refrigerator at the beginning of what is now day 9 of the power outage from Hurricane Sandy. I found in the freezer a piece of banana cake that my mother had made that I’ve been saving. I don’t know why I’d been saving it, but for some reason I never wanted to throw it out. Gabby said, “Mom, no matter what, don’t ever, ever throw out that piece of cake no matter how much mold it gets covered in.” So now in my empty refrigerator sits baking soda and the last “piece” of my mother we will ever have.

Mommy, I love you so, so much. Rest in Peace, you’ve earned it.