VU Jane

My mom (aka VU Jane) is having surgery tomorrow.  I'm not going to go into the details of what type or why, out of respect for her privacy, but it's not a small thing.  If all goes well, she will get to come home tomorrow evening.  I suspect she'll spend the night in the hospital, though. 

I'm not sure where to begin in describing how much my mom means to me.  I don't know a stronger, tougher woman.  She lost her husband (my father) at age 31 and was widowed with 2 young children.  She moved us back to Tennessee from California in 1972, first leased an apartment in Bellevue, then bought a house in Brentwood (the same house she's living in today, 41 years later).  A few years later, her father died. Then, her older sister, Ann, died.  Then, when I was a fresman in college in 1984, her oldest sister and best friend, Sue, died. 

She took care of her aunt, Margaret, until her death.  Then, she took care of her mother, Mary Alice, and her mother's sister, Sarah, until she died.  So much death and hardship, yet she never complained to me, not once.  She just got up every morning, loved them and loved us, and did whatever it was that needed to be done that day.  And then she did it again the next day.

She paid for Tracy, Alice and I to go to college, ultimately returning to work as a nurse.  For 17 years, she worked nights as the charge nurse at Baptist Hospital.  She touched so many lives during her time working on the 3500 (rehab) floor.  Simply put, my mom was born to be a caregiver.  It is her blessing and her curse, as she always has cared for others first, herself last.

I have marveled at the fact that since she retired a few years ago, she's been busier than when she was working, mostly helping other people.  Just tonight - the night before her surgery - she visited an older woman she checks on regularly, providing her with conversation, company and the occasional batch of cookies or a similar treat.  That's just who she is.

My mom raised Tracy, Alice and me, all on her own.  For the most part, Tracy was pretty easy to raise.  Alice and I, not so much.  As the oldest child and her only son, I constantly tested her limits and tried to exert my independence.  Losing my father at such a young age, I think I grew up more quickly than some of my peers.  I know I lost a lot of the innocence that children have and that affected my world view somewhat.  We fought, at times, when I was a teenager, but I always respected the fact that she listened to me, respected me enought to let me have my say, then made the decision she thought was best for me in a particular circumstance.

In truth, my mom has been my best friend.  I have always been able to talk with her - to tell her anything.  She has been there for me on every single occasion I have needed her.  And that's something.  She's been my rock, my example, my pillar of strength.  I aspire, every day, to be as strong as she is.  I fail, but I keep on trying.

My mom has lived a life of service to others.  She epitomizes the word "selfless."  My mom has lived a life of service to others.  She epitomizes the word "selfless."   

I've said this many, many times.  I believe there's an express lane at the pearly gates near the entrance to Heaven.  I also believe my mom will be in that line, the one that says "12 items or less," when the time comes. 

Jackie Robinson said, "A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives."  My mom's entire life has been about impacting other lives. 

I love you, mom, and I'll be praying for you tonight and tomorrow.