When I say she is the world’s best mom, I mean it. I am absolutely sure that if there were awards for such efforts, she would have won at least once in her 42 years as a mama. She’s not just mom to my brother and I. As soon as she earned her title she became mom to all children. Her heart has never been incapacitated before. Now it’s messing with her: perhaps from overuse.
We’re at the hospital today. You need to consider your reading time right now a prayer. Think about her with all your might, I don’t care who you are, and send her the best vibes you have in you. Send them to your mom while you are at it. This is a moment with whatever higher, lateral or earthly power you choose. I want her to see that we made it through this long, hard winter. I want her to plant chard and carrots. She loves the feeling of sun on her back. I want her to watch my oldest on Wednesdays in the summer because he adores her. I want to know that the person that understands and knows me the best on this earth is still with me. I want what so many of you have lost. Today I see fully what I stand to lose and I am terrified.
Stroke. She had many little strokes in her sleep last night. They aren’t sure why. Her mind is totally intact, but her left side is affected. They say she looks good, considering. “Good” isn’t the mom I know, but we have her mind today. And she squeezed my hand with her left hand. And she said to me, “you have too many burdens.” I told her, through gushing tears, that’s what happens when you’ve been so well loved. You have burdens. I love my burdens with my whole being.
She told a joke. Miraculous. Who jokes at a time like this? The foxy one. We were surrounding her in her ER bed, each of us holding a part of her; me, my husband, and my dad. She addressed us in order; “I’d take three more of you. And two of him. But one of him is enough; he’s been a little difficult.” We laughed. She made US laugh. She relieved us.
Now that I am a mom I know this about her. She doesn’t expect me to save her. She doesn’t want me to be burdened by her. She wants me to be happy. But I wanted to shield her the way she has shielded me. Seeing her hurt and struggle makes me ache from head to toe. I want her to know what overwhelming gratitude I have for the depth, intention, joy and love with which she raised me and continues to be my best friend. But I am a mom now and though its hard to take to heart, I know all she expects from me is to hold her hand, pray and hope. I can barely breath or think straight, but I can hold her hand, pray and hope.
3 thoughts on “The Foxy One”
Shawna, my prayers are with you, Gwen, and family…I have such beautiful memories of your mother from when we were little girls…she is one of the most compassionate and resilient woman I know! Sending positive healing energy and love. xx
Shawna, This is beautiful. You and your mom are two of the most loving people I have ever met. I love you both. Jason
Beautiful post Shawna. Sending prayers and lots of love to you all!