The Greatest Gift

I am an erratic blogger at best, but my own personal circumstances changed so dramatically last fall that I have been unable to put thought to paper until now.

Shortly after my August blog, my mother was diagnosed with esophageal cancer and after weeks of additional testing, we were told that it had progressed to Stage IV, invading most of her body.

Suddenly nothing else mattered and thanks to flexible hours, good staff and an understanding Board I was able to spend much of Mother's remaining time with her.

Always a person to do what needed to be done, Mother approached the battery of tests, doctor's visits and chemotherapy with her usual get 'er done attitude. On November 19th, our 4-month old granddaughter, Mikayla, died at day care. Her loss devastated our family, but especially my mother, who had found a real buddy in this precious, sweet-tempered baby. Mother died 12 days later, in the early morning hours of December 2nd. My next two blogs will be dedicated to these two very special people, both who continue to influence my life in the best of ways.

I have always been a bit irreverent and rowdy to suit my school-teacher mother's idea of how a daughter should behave, but a particular time kept coming back to us during those final weeks. Almost 30 years ago Mother and I went to Hawaii with friends of ours, Irene and Patty Warren. We went with a tour group and people would constantly ask "So, where are you girls from and what do you do, yadayadayada". I had enough of that after about the first day, so I began to make up all kinds of answers, much to Mother's dismay. I figured that we'd never see these people again so what the heck? Give 'em a good story when they got home.

In our tour group was a lively little gentleman in his 70s who had lost his wife of many years just a few months before the trip. He and Mother became fast friends, both liking to talk, and he often sat with us during our meals, so when we all sat down at a long table for our luau, he sat next to Mother as usual. With many a blue Hawaiian down the hatch, I was enjoying the evening when two ladies from Texas started the inevitable line of questioning. "Are you girls sisters?" they asked. "No ma'am," I answered politely. "We're just friends. This is Patty's mother, Irene" I said as I leaned around Patty to point to Irene. Leaning further, I continued sweetly "This is my mother, Doris...and this is my dad." Mother instantly looked down the table and said "JAN!! THIS IS NOT YOUR DADDY!!!" Just as quickly I put my hands over my face and wailed "MOTHER! You never told me that before!" Irene started laughing as hard as I was by that time, to the background of my mother's voice as she disowned me. By the end of the trip Mother told me that she would never go anywhere with me again even if someone paid her way.

30 years later, as I was fortunate enough to be able to go with her and my dad to doctor's visits, hospital stays and chemotherapy, every time we went to a new place she asked me to tell them the "Hawaii story." Little did we know then that we would eventually be going almost everywhere together, both of us managing to let the other be herself. That is the greatest gift either of us have ever given each other.