My mom

“Any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you, my friend. Any minor world that breaks apart falls together again.“ - Steely Dan

"I read. The more you read, the more the world opens up to you... and the happier you are and more comforted you feel. It's up to you. No you is educated who cannot educate himself." — Mark Helprin, Freddy and Fredericka

According to Google, the word great means "of an extent, amount, or intensity considerably above the normal or average." By this definition my mom was a great lady. She was both inordinately calm and extremely intense. She could be comically sarcastic. She cared deeply about her friends and family. She was a master at building and maintaining relationships from afar. She was unique. We all expected her to live forever.

She and I were very different. As a kid, I would cringe as she would talk to strangers about any topic while at the same time being in a kind of awe at her ability to do this. She liked to stay up late and sleep in, and after my teenage years I found that I preferred (much to her chagrin) to retire early. She was a passionate collector of things, while virtually everything I own fits into a suitcase. She was a life-long smoker and I have never had a single cigarette. She started many many projects but rarely finished a one. I have lost much sleep as a result of unfinished business.

Many of us have complicated relationships with our parents. At different times, we revere them, think we know vastly more than them, question their decisions and (hopefully, eventually) come to appreciate the thousands of things they've done for us. Without them, we would not be who we are. Our own values, habits, preferences are a blend of what they say and do. Most of the time these are positive influences. Parents generally try to pass the best of themselves on to their kids. That said, we are all flawed. Parents, after all, are just people. I think we can learn just as much from the bad habits of our parents as we can the good. Part of the reason I never smoked is because of a clear sense that despite being unable to stop - something I could never understand - my mother desperately wished she could shake the habit. Because of this, it is something I decided to bar from my life. Without this influence I don't know if I would have made the same decision and for that I am deeply grateful.

At the same time, there are so many positive traits that I got from my mom. If I am in any way ever a fun person to be around, that can be entirely attributed to her. My love of reading came from watching her consume dozens of books a year. I am writing this now because she was a writer and showed me that getting thoughts out of your head can be freeing and cathartic. She trusted on a very deep level and created genuine bonds with people she would meet in person only after years of communicating online and via phone. She really had no fear; I remember her perching like a gargoyle on hotel window ledges in New York City just to take in the view. Despite her deteriorating body, she was physically tough; anyone who saw her recover from weeks in a coma has no doubt about that. I only hope to have a fraction of that toughness as I face the good times and challenges ahead.

I think much of my desire to experience different cultures, countries, environments comes from trips we took as kids. Many a sketchy motel hosted us as we traversed the midwest. We visited state and national parks and met some true weirdos along the way. She once drove my brother and I from Oklahoma to Toronto with our dog and my brother's friend Juan and showed us that people will welcome you into their homes if you let them. While I think the lifestyle I've led for the past few years confused her because she so loved her own bed and fancy pillows, I'd like to think she took some pride in having lit the original spark.

I cannot claim to understand what it is like to have a child, but it seems to me that it involves sacrifices large and small. The most impactful event of my life was leaving home to attend boarding school after my freshman year of high school. To say I was terrified does not do justice to my feelings at the time. I straight up did not want to go. In the midst of a crisis like this, all you think about is yourself. I did not appreciate until much later how difficult this must have been for my parents. They were only thinking about what was best for me, not about how much they would miss me, how empty the house might feel, how I might (and very much did) return a different person. The only thing I remember is everyone around me - especially my mom - reassuring me how much fun it would be, how I would make new friends, and most critically, that I could always come home if I truly wanted to. I only had to give it a try. Looking back on that period over 20 years later, I remember those as the most formative and among the happiest years of my life. That lesson - that you just have to try - is responsible for some other pivotal decisions: quitting business school and moving to DC where I knew no one. Chasing a childhood dream of living in New York. Basically leaving my entire life behind to travel around the world with the person I love. Often we make sacrifices without knowing their eventual impact. I hope she (and my dad) knows that one was damn sure worth it.

I know with absolute certainty that my mom wanted nothing more than to be just that, a mom. It was the thing she was happiest doing and most proud of. I don’t think she ever wanted another job. She even coached many other mothers prior to their own births. She often questioned if she had been a good mother, and I did little to reassure her. For whatever reason, expressing emotion does not come naturally to me. I make jokes and change the subject. This is a flaw I recognize in myself. Deep down though, I think she knew she must have done a good job, otherwise I would not be who I am today. There's no question I should have told her that more often, but I think she knew.

Knowing that something is inevitable does not lessen the shock when that thing eventually happens. I certainly felt like I would not be surprised, that I was prepared, but I don't know if that's actually possible. Knowing that you'll never be able to speak to someone again has such a profound sense of finality. Your mind searches for ways to make it untrue,  but there's no going back. There is nothing you can do but accept it and choose how to feel. I will choose to be grateful. Grateful for the adventures we had when I was a kid. Grateful for the sacrifices, both known and unknown, that she made for us. Grateful for the parts of her spirit that live on in me and others she impacted. So very grateful for the past year. While she was often in pain and had difficulty simply getting through the day, she gave us something so precious, which was a little more time. No one will ever know why she survived her bout in the hospital a year ago. I think it was because she wanted to have a little more time with us, and because she wanted to go out on her own terms, at home in her bed with her blankets and pillows and dogs next to her. She did that, and she will be missed.

“I have a shelf of comfort books, which I read when the world closes in on me or something untoward happens.” - Anne McCaffrey