I’ve known my mother for fifty years but today, she said four words I have never heard her say in all those fifty years and it tore a hole in my heart.  When she called she said, “Hi Bev!  I’m so happy to hear your voice!  So you got the day off.”  I said, “Yes, I sure did and it’s nice to hear your voice too!  How are you doing today?”  And then those four words arrived and I could feel the tears forming in my eyes and in my heart.  She said, “I’m kind of lonely.”

For nine months prior to my arrival I listened to her beating heart each and every second of each and every day.  Our bond is one of the most precious gifts I have ever received and it’s a gift I will cherish until the beating of my very own heart comes to an end.

In her earlier years, she was one of the most ambitious people I knew.   She was always doing something and it was usually something that involved the use of her young, strong arms and her two strong legs.  Her life wasn’t easy but I don’t ever remember her complaining when she lugged dirty laundry down two flights of stairs twice a week to an old ringer type washing machine.  Every Monday and every Thursday she would fill that old washing machine and the old galvanized tub with water that would later create numerous buckets of dirty water she would have to carry back upstairs to dump.  I don’t ever remember her complaining as she ironed mountains of clean clothes that always included those navy blue and red hankies dad carried in his pockets.  As I got a little older she would let me iron those.  For some reason she made ironing look kind of fun so it was always a treat to get to do the hankies.  My mom never assigned chores.  She never forced an established bed time on us.  She never told us we were lazy and she never got upset when something ended up broken.  She just created an atmosphere of happiness and led three kids into adulthood with all the necessary tools they would need to build that very same warm and comfortable existence and not once do I ever remember her slowing down long enough to let loneliness get it’s grips on her.

She’s eighty years old now and each day a small part of her independence is being taken away.  She has moments when those losses take their toll and she says things she really doesn’t mean.  She struggles with a lot of tasks she used to do with ease and her patience is tested time and time again.  She tells me that it isn’t easy to get old.  She tells me that she feels like she’s fifty on the inside but her body sees things considerably different and then she tells me how nice it would be if she could see me every day.  Occasionally she tells me about all the things she is still able to do but the list is getting shorter with each passing day and the unwelcome stranger she has managed to avoid nearly every day of her life is finding it’s way into her world with each bit of ability fate is taking away.

I’m not sure if she realizes it, but I’m still learning things from her.  I’m learning that the will to survive may someday be the strongest part of who I am.  I’m learning that there is something to be thankful for each and every day.  I’m learning that we should take absolutely nothing for granted and that we should be thankful for even the tiniest of blessings.

A while back, during a discussion that involved my strategy for managing certain circumstances I was told that perhaps I was “just too nice.”  If that’s possible, it’s who I strive to be.  If it’s true, it’s most likely a big part of the reason I’m not farther ahead in life but if those three little words are really what defines me, my mother did indeed, accomplish what she set out to do.