November 27th 1925 ~ November 9th 2003
Welcome once again to another edition of Breakfast On The Blog. Today I am going to talk about a visit home in 2003.
Eleven years ago on October 31st my plane landed in Norfolk from Washington D.C. I had started my trip about ten hours earlier in Frankfurt, Germany. I took an airport shuttle to Virginia Beach and arrived, as I often had on my regular yearly visits before, at my parent’s house in the middle of Halloween. I got my bags out of the shuttle and took out my camera. My Father was sitting on one side of the porch in his wheelchair eating pizza, my Mother was sitting on the other side, with their caregiver Debbie, handing out candy to the kids. I took a photo of my Dad, and then one of my Mom. It would be the last one I would ever take. Eight days later, shortly after midnight on the 9th of November, while I was lightly dozing in a lounge chair I heard her scream in pain in her bedroom. I jumped up and ran to see what had happened. An aneurysm in her abdomen had apparently burst and she died almost instantly, in my arms. It was three weeks before her 78th birthday.
My mother was the guiding light of my life. All I ever knew from her was love and wisdom. I’m sure that many of the decisions I made in my life weren’t always pleasing to her, yet she never failed to give me her support and understanding. She read to me when I was a toddler and always encouraged me to read and write. She instilled in me not only the value of good books, but of learning and discovering the beauty in life. She respected and supported my decision to live and work overseas, although she’d rather I had been closer to home. I was 53 when she died, but in her eyes I would always be her little boy. She used to call me every year at 7:01 pm German time on my birthday and say, “It’s 1:01 in the afternoon here. Happy birthday, that’s when you were born.” Towards the end of her life she would tell me that when she passed away she hoped that she’d become a little red-haired angel up on a cloud looking down at me from above. I am not religious at all, but I hope she got her wish. Wherever she went, if she went anywhere at all, I hope that she’s happy. She didn’t have a bad bone in her body. The only thing I know for certain is that she lives on deep inside of me and that I miss her laughter, her guidance and her wonderful heart. A lot. A child could not have had a better mother. Thanks Mom, thanks for all you always gave so unselfishly, and always with a smile.
When she turned seventy she’d smile and say, “I’m seventy years old. I can do anything I want.” And she usually did…
© 2014 nightpoet all rights reserved