My dear mom..

...I'll write this now, while she lives. She can't read it, she can barely see or hear. Living her end of days in a nursing home with dementia, 3 serious falls in the last 18 months, she's not long for this world- but what a life.

She was born on a farm in Northwest Ohio. Pumping well water into a bucket was a daily chore in all seasons. Tending goats, feeding the chickens and gathering eggs before breakfast. During the Winter, she and her older sister were tasked with hiking through snow covered fields to a one room schoolhouse. They arrived in the early dark to stoke the fire and light the oil lamps.
Years later, she would be accepted into nursing school in Cleveland. There was one Christmas vacation, it snowed so much in Putnam County that my grandfather had to take her to the train station on the tractor.

After completing her nursing degree, she attended Miami University in Oxford, OH. She studied English and French Literature. Her plan was to move to Paris and work in the American Hospital there, perhaps meet a handsome doctor. Years later, I would find a box in the basement with her textbooks, notes neatly scribbled in the margins with her distinctive, slanted, left-hand script. Books in French. Poetry books with starred or circled stanzas- especially love poems.

The story went: she and my dad were set up on a blind date for brunch. She had a slight cold and red nose, he showed up sporting banana yellow Bermuda shorts. It was NOT love at first sight, sparks did not fly. A few weeks later, my dad was stood up on a Saturday night date and still had mom's number. It went better the second time: they got "pinned" a month after (*pinned being a public declaration of coupledom in the college Greek system), engaged at 3 months, married after 6 months. So much for Paris.

They settled in a quiet, blue collar suburb of Cleveland; the Post-WWII economic and baby boom was on. He was a school teacher and she was an RN at a hospital. This was the Great American blueprint: our ancestors came here from Europe with little to nothing for this very dream. A better life.

- I am the youngest of 4. The "baby", I am left-handed like my mom and I had blond hair as a child..my siblings were fond of telling me I was adopted (*we did have a milk man..).

- I nearly died twice before the age of 2 (asthma attack, struck by a car). she was very protective of me.
- when I was taller than the stove, she showed me how to make scrambled eggs. after 4 kids and still working 3-11pm ER shifts, she was done with breakfast.
- when I started midget league football, she showed me how to do laundry so I could wash my own uniforms. again, she was over it.
- I was gifted with musical talent, she paid for drum lessons and only bought me a drum set after a year of lessons. she put a kitchen timer by my first kit with these words: "If I don't hear you practicing for 30 minutes each day, the drums go back to the store!" (*that was 1978, I've been a professional drummer for 35+ years).
- I got the 'Theater Bug' in high school. My first choice for a major in college was Philosophy, my dad quickly put the kibosh on that. So I pivoted to Theater, which my mom was very happy about and dad acquiesced.
(*soon after, I won an acting scholarship to the University of London, my parents saw me on local stages, in TV commercials, and they flew to New York to see me perform in "King Lear" with Hal Holbrook at The Roundabout Theater).
- at age 50, she quit smoking (cold turkey) and took up running. she would go on to win many medals in area 5k races.
- she was a doting grandmother, she spoiled my sister's kids at every turn (*as well as my dogs, they adored her).
- she retired from nursing after 45yrs at the same hospital; even then, she constantly picked up shifts so that younger nurses with families could have holidays and birthdays off (plus, she just loved being a nurse).
- 2 years into her retirement, my father committed suicide. she found him in the basement. she was alone.
- she needed a change and traveled all over the world with a church tour group. she loved it. she also joined a Book Club, Tennis Club, and Lunch Bunch..she was always active with many friends.
- she dated a bit, but nothing serious until an old flame returned. they had dated briefly in 1950, when she was in nursing school. he went on to marry her best friend who eventually succumbed to cancer. now, both at 74 and without spouses, they found each other again.
- I was in an auto accident and flown by helicopter to a Level 1 trauma center. they induced a coma to facilitate the multiple surgeries I would need. she drove 72 miles round-trip every day to sit with me, talk to me, hold my hand..for 2 solid weeks.
- I had a long rehabilitation, she took care of me until I could walk and care for myself again. I put her through hell.
- she was happily married for the 2nd time for 19yrs. in 2022, they both caught COVID; he fell and had to be moved to hospice. I took a leave from work so I could be her caregiver. now it was my turn to care for her.
- I fed her, cleaned, made sure she bathed, read to her, put her to bed. we watched old movies on TCM and I would quiz her on the actors and actresses..we laughed and had a lot of fun together.
- her husband died the day after Thanksgiving, I had to tell her...she knew what I was saying, but didn't cry (I did). she was alone again, in her 90s, with dementia.
- now, she's in a memory care facility, my aunt is on the same floor. I have siblings and cousins who are 10 minutes away.

They say when a loved one has dementia, you lose them twice: once when their personality disappears and they are lost in their own abyss; and again when they physically die. I miss talking with her. She was my best supporter, always willing to listen, give advice (if needed) or simply be there to comfort me. She was there for all 4 of us kids, no matter what.
She was intensely proud of her Welsh ancestry (*Irish too, but the bloodline there is lesser known). When I lived in the UK, we traveled to Wales and found our ancestral homestead in the rolling hills of Powys. We both loved singing, and at a young age I was reading "The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas". Up until recently, when I visited her, I would get up close and say:
"Cymru am byth, Mama fach" (Wales forever, my little mom), she would reply, "Cymru am byth". Though she sleeps most of the time, she will still hold onto my hand.

I love you, my dear mom..