My Mother’s Call

I called my Mom this morning.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

I do most mornings to check on her.

I knew when she answered the phone that she was having a “down day” – her voice was low and her words came slower than normal and with little emotion.

“I just got some bad news a half an hour ago,” she slowly started.

“My friend Carmie died a week or so ago. Her daughter called me this morning and told me. Remember Carmie, Lucie? I used to go to the state fairs and meet up with her and her husband in Auburn. Remember?” she quietly asked.

“Yeah, Ma, I remember you telling me what a great time the three of you had, but I don’t really remember that much about her,” I answered.

“Was she one of your school friends or someone you met after I left NY?” I asked, lowering my tone of voice to match hers.

She told me that Carmie was a school friend that she had known for many years, and they had kept in contact with each other as much as opportunity and time would allow. They had reconnected with each other after Mom’s divorce, and she really enjoyed the reminiscing and fun that they had every time they saw each other.

“We didn’t see each other much,” she continued. “I couldn’t drive that far and her husband stopped driving up here years ago because of his health, but boy when we did see each other, we had such a good time – such a good time…” and her voice suddenly trailed off.

The phone then went silent for longer than usual with my Mom, and I could hear her let out a deep sigh, as she composed herself for what she had to say next.

She then quietly continued, “I know it’s our time to go and there’s really nothing to be sad about, ‘cuz she lived a good life, but I’m losing a lot of my friends these days and I feel kinda bad today, Lucia. To tell you the truth, I feel a little sad.”

She hesitated again and in a voice laden with sadness and a hint of regret, continued.

“I knew when I called her at Christmas that things weren’t going so well for her and Bruno,” she said, “and I just felt something was terribly wrong for the last couple of weeks and wanted to call, but didn’t want to bother them.”

“Isn’t that weird, how I just knew something was wrong and then her daughter called me this morning and told me that she died two weeks ago?” she continued.

“No, Ma, I don’t find that weird at all,” I answered. “You were close friends and sometimes close friends and loved ones sense things about each other. I don’t find it weird, Mom.”

She quickly changed the topic of conversation and we chatted for another few minutes and then she told me that she needed to take her walk before it got too cold outside.

So, we hung up and both went on with the business of our days.

Only by this point, I was also “feeling a little sad, to tell you the truth” – feeling a little sad that my Mom was alone in her grieving.

What struck me even sadder, though, was the reality that my Mom is at that age when I think she’s wondering if her time may not be so far away, and that the infamous phone call that Carmie’s daughter made to her, will be made soon by one of her own children to some of her remaining friends.

It’s a topic that I really don’t want to discuss, but one that I firmly believe is necessary and important for her to express and get off her chest.

We know where her plot and headstone are and we know where all the important papers are, and we know that she wants to be cremated.

But maybe, just maybe, we need to know if there’s anything on her heart that she wants to say before she goes – if there’s anything that she needs to express to us before she joins Carmie and all of her good friends for that final and eternal pitch game in Heaven with God?

Hm…

I think I’ll make an important phone call today, People, and catch ya next time, looking at life from my shoes.

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Lucie

I'm a retired special ed teacher, born in upstate NY, who spent most of my adult life in the SF/Bay Area and moved to the Olympic Peninsula of WA in June of 2017. At the encouragement of family and friends, who followed my silliness on my FB page, I started this blog a few years ago. I try to keep my topics as humorous as possible (because I believe "LIFE" is pretty serious these days), but will, on occasion write about more solemn subjects. I sincerely appreciate all who take the time and effort to read and make comments and am truly humbled when people actually "like" what I write. I do not participate in the "Wordpress awards" because I feel "awarded" when individuals actually read me and comment, but sincerely appreciate all of you who have considered me "award worthy" and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Hugs, Lucie

22 thoughts on “My Mother’s Call”

  3. Those daily calls are so important, Lucie, as is the important call you know you have to make. I told you recently I had been through the death and dying of a loved one, and though my heart is still too full to detail the experience, I’m so glad I called her regularly, and that she had made both me and her daughter aware of exactly how she wanted the last few weeks of her life to go. Because of her clear wishes, we were able to make them happen.

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    1. Yes…they (the daily calls) are and it (THE CALL) is…”being there” for our loved ones is not easy, but very much a part of living. And listening to our loved ones last wishes is truly a gift that I feel is “owed”…. Take your time and when you’re ready, I’ll listen to your heart, Janet….It’s hard “being there” for our dying friends and family members…I keep telling myself that it’s “just part of life”, but that doesn’t make it any easier; not for me, any ways. I hate “good-byes” – even if it’s only for a little while…

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    1. Aw…you’re such a sweetheart, Steve. This particular conversation I had with her two weeks ago…she’s doing better, thank you, and slowly getting back to her “upbeat self”….

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    1. My oldest brother sent her flowers and I called her daily…it actually took place two weeks ago. It was especially sad for me because she’s usually a pretty funny, upbeat person and it choked me up, so I wrote…..she’s 3,000 miles away and the only way I can “connect” is to call, so I do …every day…Thx for stopping by! (((hugs))) 🙂

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  10. Thanks, Lucie. Important to say it now and do it now, because we may not get another chance. I even say “I love you” every time I talk with my pesky baby brother, who is now an adorable and fine grandfather. My mom’s advice as she aged was to keep making new friends, because the old ones keep dying. However, after losing several “best” friends, she vowed not to have any more bests. Good was good enough.

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