She was 97. I was rather shy as a child. Her face would become warped, twisted with anticipation.
My mother spent weeks agonizing over just the right shoes to go with just the right outfits for a nine-day cruise my brother took her on to St. Petersburg and other sites. I liked being on my own and could not understand the joy of running around and shouting. “And now I am done.
My mother had her own room, where the door was always ajar; she didn’t so much sleep there as rest between walks up and down the hall to watch and listen for the safety of her children. My mother died on 4 May.
My eyes widened as she confirmed what I long suspected but didn’t want to believe.
Not everyone can say the same, and therefore, I feel lucky.
My dad and my brother's family attended a 10-minute cremation service a couple of weeks later. Treatment put her into remission by the summer of 2016; by the fall, we were visiting Rome and Paris together for the first time. Not of Covid-19. My mother was initially diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015. My Mother is for sure my best friend and wisest adviser. My great excitement at seeing her on stage was always tinged with a …
My mother’s big, warm eyes would suddenly turn new, strange. Two days before, she complained to my sister of a severe pain in her head, slipped into unconsciousness, and never woke. I enjoyed reading, imagining and creating my own games that other children were not interested in. I would drop the coffee mug and hear it crash on the linoleum. My mother was an actress, which added another refraction: I grew up watching her pretend to be other people.