Mom Knows Best

8 Timeless lessons from the life and death of my beautiful, feisty, independent mother

There is nothing that truly prepares you as a daughter to say goodbye to your mom. No matter your age or situation. She’s always been there for you. She’s always been your most loyal fan. Even when telling you to stand up straight, correcting your grammar or grounding you for coming home past your curfew. All because she loves you. She wants you to become the best version of yourself. When goodbyes must be said days after your birthday and just before Thanksgiving, it’s emotional overload on the saddest of proportions. A cruel start to the holiday season.

Blank pages of the New Year now beckon for fresh stories. Yet my mind lingers. Trying to make sense of it.

Unexpected diagnosis

The surgery ran much longer than expected. Tense moments, as I eagerly awaited news from the surgeon an ocean away. All while I walked to a Halloween party, donning the most hair-raisingly frightful costume. One that was inspired by my mom’s creativity. Suddenly, his words stopped me in my tracks. “Unless there is another surgery, she likely has weeks, maybe a month.” In the chaos, I am not sure if I told her I won the prize for “scariest costume.” 

New priorities

Just to be clear, considerations for this plot were nowhere in my strategic plans, when I launched Contentalist earlier in the year. With one heartbreakingly real conversation, my priorities changed. My new goal was straightforward. Be at my mom’s side and help her find as much comfort and joy as possible during her last days. In other words, it was time to laugh, do the things she enjoyed and help make the process of dying not feel so scary. Talk about a stretch goal.

The long journey home

The distance between our two homes was 4,339 miles or 6,982 kilometers and spanned two continents. After a mind-numbing day and a half of planes, trains and automobiles, I was finally standing at her door. Delivering handmade chocolate milkshakes and burgers from a beloved local establishment. Her beautiful smile was all I needed to know I made the right decision.     

One last mother daughter adventure

I now was officially “couch surfing” in my 84-year-old mother’s assisted living apartment. We started each morning by selecting one fun activity for the day. First up, join her friends for a long-overdue lunch in the dining room. She carefully chose her outfit, spiffed up her hair and added a touch of lipstick. Much to her delight, she received an ovation from the residents, caregivers and staff. Her regular table gladly welcomed us with open arms. She beamed more proudly than I have ever seen, as she introduced me to everyone. “This is my daughter Tracy who lives in Switzerland.” She laughed, sang and told funny stories that delighted us all. To see the joy radiating from her was priceless. A memory that will forever be etched in my heart. 

Full tilt 

We felt like VIPs when the bingo caller invited us to sit at the head table. After a few rounds, mom had the winning card. She proudly selected her prize, a Twix candy bar. Moments later, she dozed off. Just when I thought she was in tra-la-la-land, she piped up and asked the caller to hold down her voice. All without opening her eyes. A roar of laughter erupted. As I wheeled her back to her apartment with her winnings firmly grasped in her hand, she began to slide out of her chair. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What a grand ending it would have been to her life’s colorful story.    

Afternoon tea was something we both adored. It was the perfect theme for one last birthday celebration. I carefully gathered our favorite lemon squares, cheese straws, Italian wedding cookies and finger sandwiches. Several assortments of tea. And beautiful napkins. She loved beautiful napkins. The activities director shared two vintage teacups and serving pieces from her collection. It was a regal spread, reminiscent of our favorite outings. Moments after we began enjoying the bounty, my mom collapsed in her chair. My heart sank. “Nooooooo!!!” screamed my inner six-year-old. “Please don’t go now. Not at my birthday party.” I quickly rounded up her caregivers who were just steps away. Did she have a mini stroke? Or worse? Later that evening she woke up and said, “I can’t wait for the birthday tea.” Realizing she had not remembered what happened, I assured her we would gather tomorrow for all the festivities.    

Don’t forget to wear a splash of pink lipstick and other life lessons

During our last 21 days together, we shared heartwarming moments full of laughter and delight. In between, there were spaces filled with helplessness, heartbreak and sleepless nights on that tiny sofa in the room next to her bed. Impressions that will stay with me for a lifetime.

Looking back on her life and death, I am reminded of the many timeless lessons she taught me. Like the two faces of Janus, these lessons will help me bridge the divide between the past and the future. Here are a few standouts I want to keep close.     

• Be true to yourself

My mom was always her own person. She did things on her terms and made no qualms about it. For as long as I can remember, she struggled from depression and anxiety. Unfortunately, this began years before mental health and self-care started to be accepted in the mainstream. Despite the early stigma, she sought the help she needed. She also created a space for downtime that was right for her. So incredibly courageous for a single mom. These were tough lessons to grasp as a child. Over the years, I came to understand how mental health and self-care were important for everyone, especially moms. 

Just after she moved into her new residence, I received a call from a member of her care team. “There is a big note on your mom’s door, “Do Not Disturb!” She will not let anyone in. We really need to give her meds to her. Any ideas?” I chuckled and assured her it would pass. “She probably didn’t sleep well last night. Just give her some quiet time.” Sure enough, later that afternoon the sign was down. Those around her began to understand this was Mrs. Barbara. She communicated her needs in very clear terms. No matter how peculiar they appeared to others. Sometimes she wanted to talk. Other times she told you to leave. One thing was for certain. You always knew exactly where you stood with her. Looking back, I realize she never put on any airs or made apologies for being true to herself.

• Laugh   

My mom had a fun, quirky wit. She loved to laugh. She had a knack for making those around her laugh. She in turn would laugh. It wasn’t anything planned, it just happened. A funny remark to the doctor or a clever comment to a visitor. Soon they were both in stiches. We loved to laugh together. Even in her final days, we found funny moments. It brightened the mood. Offered us a sense of joy. True gifts. 

• Experience the power of human connection

She was born and raised in a small town in eastern North Carolina. Whether you were meeting a stranger or a friend, you always began with an upbeat exchange of words. Down east, it was a show of respect. That you cared. When she moved away, she realized this was not common practice for everyone. Sadly, it often became a source of frustration. “That doctor wasn’t very friendly, the folks in the bank were not nice.” What she really meant was “They didn’t take the time to get to know me or ask about how I was doing before they went about their job.” Those that did made a great first impression. This became her litmus test for who to trust. This lesson is even more relevant in today’s crazy busy world. When you take time to learn about the other person, it can make all the difference. Asking “how are you?” and “what’s new?” can go a long way to build trust.

• Embrace a love affair with words and stories

Several years ago, a brown paper package literally tied up with string arrived in my mailbox. “Don’t open until December 25^th” was carefully written in the lower corner. Squeals of delight erupted when I learned what was inside. A copy of her memoirs, The Drugstore Chronicles. Something I had encouraged her to write several years earlier. She penned nostalgic tales of growing up in a post-war era with the drugstore as a backdrop. She recounted childhood memories of laughing with friends, going to the movies and rubbing elbows with the North Carolina Symphony when they were stranded after a concert during a snowstorm. Tears of joy flowed when I read her special dedication to me on the opening page. Holding her gift in my hands also stirred up nostalgic thoughts of our bedtime stories, trips to the library, afternoon Scrabble games and so much more. A special love that she introduced me to one word at a time. 

• Be a loyal friend

She had a close-knit circle of friends. Some of those friendships spanned 8 decades. In the days following mom’s passing, I connected with many of them. One remarked “I can’t believe it. She has been my friend since before kindergarten. We went through school together. We learned about life and boys together. We have been friends for more than 80 years. I can’t imagine life without her in it.” She carefully wove her friends into her life’s tapestry. They called each other on the phone, they sent each other cards and they celebrated each other’s birthdays. They were there for each other. Their loyalty stood the test of time. From an early age, she taught me that friends are one of life’s greatest gifts. As a result, I have the most amazing group of friends. During difficult times like these, you truly understand how precious they really are.

• Don’t forget a touch of pink lipstick

She always wore lovely clothes and had a classic sense of style. Not long before she moved into the assisted living community, she bought a pink raincoat. One that would make Barbie drool. It became her signature piece. Each time she wore it, she turned heads. Throughout my life, she helped me understand the importance of looking your best when you go out in public. She would always ask, “What are you going to wear to “such and such” event?” “Select something that looks sharp. Black is so boring. Add a splash of color. Don’t forget a touch of pink lipstick. That is your color. Brush your hair so it looks pretty.” Comments only a mother could make. It was her way of helping me look and feel my best. Her famous pink raincoat now hangs in my closet. I am certain I will not garner the same attention but I will smile each time I wear it. Hopefully I will make her proud.

• Discover the treasure of a handwritten note

Scattered among special photos in her living room were several notes and thank you cards. Ones she recently received. To her they were golden treasures. She was masterful at writing a proper thank you note or any note for that matter. She wanted me to be too. “Whenever you receive a gift, it is your responsibility to write the giver a thank you letter. Remember they didn’t have to do this for you.” The same went for someone who treated you to a meal, invited you to stay in their home or did something nice for you. “Acknowledge their kindness. Thank them for their generosity. Let people know how much you enjoyed their visit or hospitality. Tell them why it was important to you.” The best is receiving a thank you for your thank you. Mom’s rule is more important than ever. Handwritten notes are treasures amongst the endless sea of impersonal texts, social media and AI generated messages.  

• Share your talents

Spend time with my mom and you would quickly understand her passion for reading. Not just by the overstuffed bookshelves or the stacks of books in her apartment but from the tidbits of information she would slide into the conversation. A friend recently remarked “I always learned so much when I visited with your mother. That was one of my favorite memories of our time together.” She also helped people of all ages learn to read. What a world of wonder she opened for others by nurturing this invaluable life skill. Upon her retirement, she studied art history and became a docent at the North Carolina Museum of Art. She found joy in sharing her passion for art with museum visitors. It was always a treat to hear tales of the days she spent giving tours to others. Her love of books and art spilled over to me. Maybe it is no coincidence I live in a place known for its museums, boasting almost 40 to its credit. With each visit, I feel her presence.

Slowly in the stillness of fresh January days, I am starting to find my rhythm in a new normal. Now it’s time to write new stories and share them with others. Find joy in the unexpected signs of her presence along the journey. And take comfort in knowing she will always be in my heart.