One year ago today, my mom didn’t know she was hours away from the sudden beginning of the end. All who knew her went to bed believing it was like any other night. It wasn’t. We discovered that the following morning, when I received a voicemail I can't forget. I continue to replay it in my mind regularly.
Today, as I was preparing myself for the next three days of “last first anniversaries” of the series of events that ended with her leaving us, it never occurred to me that today, the day before, would be such a difficult day. I had not anticipated, and therefore had not planned for, the anniversary of the last day she was alive. While a tragic memory, it felt like a day to be celebrated, unlike the next three days that will be remembered, but grieved.
What did she do that day? Did she have her usual breakfast, including the “Mom bacon” also known as bacon that would break carpet if you dropped it? I assume she went to Casey’s, but maybe she had a sleepy morning and didn’t go into town. Did she watch anything on television or go for a walk around the property? I don’t know. The questions that I was suddenly obsessed with will go unanswered.
I DO know she sat in her favorite chair and stared at her beloved tree, full of bright red leaves. I know she talked to the cat and gave her lots of treats and attention. I know Dad cooked a delicious meal for her, and I know she felt loved. I know this because it was part of each day these last several years. There’s a high probability that her day included Ritz crackers and peanut butter, popsicles, and hot cocoa or tea. Her day wouldn’t have been a sad one, nor filled with stress and worry.
This morning, in the middle of a project, that haunting realization came to me that today was the anniversary of her last day of fully living. Any given day could be my last day…or yours. I chose to find a way to honor her by doing something she would have encouraged me to do. Nothing grand, just something she would have replied with “Go do it, what’s stopping you?”
What would Mom want for me? She would want to make me laugh or put a smile on my face. That’s what she wanted for everyone she met, but maybe a bit more for me. She would want to spoil me with something I refused to spend money on myself for. It was too late in the day to make a grand gesture like going on a road trip or baking one of our favorite foods.
As I was pondering dining on one of her favorite foods, a friend called out of the blue and invited me to lunch. I’d been crying for hours and needed to do something to remember Mom; I just didn’t know what, but I said “yes” to my friend as God’s been putting that concept on my heart a lot more lately. He’s even been reinforcing it with new friends who remind me of this unknowingly. (A year ago, I spoke at a women’s retreat on the very topic of saying “yes” to God.)
I made a quick loop around the fall trees, pausing to remember all of the awe she expressed every autumn. I grabbed this quick photo, but didn't see the bird until I uploaded it here. There's some symbolism there for so many, and it warmed my heart to see it.
I knew what my next step was going to be.
There is a favorite cake I’ve wanted for my birthday for the past five years, but I would never spend the money on myself and buy it. Today, I could almost hear Mom say, “Sometimes, you just have to eat cake!” Full disclosure, Mom was not one to use bad language, but I know she would have said, “Go buy the damn cake!” while she grinned from ear to ear.
So I did. It was one of the best cakes I’ve ever tasted. It was rich and creamy. It made me feel special. Just like she would have wanted for me today, and every day.
Tomorrow will be another difficult and emotional day, but I have leftover cake to carry me through the next three heartbreaking days. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because my mouth is full of chocolatey, creamy, decadent cake.
Lois Lynn
