Day 103: Gone 20 Years

Today marks a milestone I wasn’t thrilled to hit. My mom has been gone for twenty years. I’m married to a doctor of clinical psychology, who has a huge amount of experience in neuropsychological testing. She has admitted to me that she has never met someone with a better memory. It’s a photographic memory, I can recall conversations verbatim from 15 years ago, and for the life of me I barely remember my mom.

Growing up, I was what you’d call a lazy student. My grades hovered around C’s and B’s. I rarely got an A. I rarely made honor roll (getting a B average) and only once got scholarship 9a B+ average. I remember I was in fifth grade when I made scholarship, when my teacher, Ms. Bangerter (Ms. Wiborn now), came up to me and hugged me and said I made it. I remember working very hard that semester. Skip forward so many years, my junior year. I had a huge crush on a girl who was a grade below me. I asked her out to my junior prom as friends (she was dating someone at the time). My mom took me to get my tux, and helped me pick out a corsage. She made a huge to do about the whole thing even though we were friends. After the prom when me and this girl remained friends I came home sad and my mom comforted me, and said to be patient. She even took this photo of me with some nieces and my youngest cousin (who is all grown up and an amazing teacher and mother of twins no less!!!!!!!)

I remained patient and six months later I was dating that girl. I didn’t come out and say we were dating but I said I was heading to her house for dinner and my mom said “why?” and she gave me that look like she knew I was hiding something, and even though I can keep a straight face, I just couldn’t keep the smile off my face. She hugged me and said, “make sure to invite her over for dinner sometime”. This new girlfriend of mine was a 4.3 gpa student. She was an over achiever, did a ton of activities, volunteered with Special Olympics and was trying to learn a foreign language. I have no clue what she saw in me. Hanging around her family it was clear her siblings were over achievers as well, academically her parents expected perfection and they got it. Her brother is an engineer (with a masters degree) and her sister is a chiropractor. Being around these people, I felt unworthy of dating this girl because I had bad grades and didn’t have any future plan for anything.

This was my senior year of high school and it went by in a flash. I got into my community college and decided to devote my college experience to academics like a passion. It was there I became close to one of my high school friends named Juan. And reconnected with one of my old Sunday school friends from New Life Christian, Stuart. We were just a bunch of idiots trying to get through junior college. My first semester grades were straight A’s. When I got my grades it was like getting punched in the stomach, i didn’t know it was even possible to get those grades. My girlfriend was excited, my mom was proud. It was a great time in my life, my job as a courtesy clerk was paying all my expenses, tuition, gas, some food, car insurance. I felt great.

A day after one of my sisters had her second child (we are a fertile group of siblings) my mom had a seizure in her bed. The fire dept came, and an ambulance took her to the hospital. I drove with my dad because he was worried I’d crash o the way there. They did a bunch of testing, I went home for the night and my dad stayed there. The next morning I went to an early class and then headed to the hospital. As I got off the elevator there were some of my mom’s friends and a couple of my sisters I think. My dad was waiting for me, time stood still, he walked up to me and said “Georgie it’s cancer” he hugged me and the next few weeks were blur.

I kept working at the local grocery story, in the small town we live in knew about my mom the next day it seemed. All these people I barely know would ask how my mom was as I bagged their groceries, I’d habitually run to the bathroom to cry for a few minutes and then walk back when the tears dried. I hated those people who asked me about my mom, because most of them forgot my answer after they left. She would have to have brain surgery to remove a tumor on her brain.

I’ll spare you all the details of the next two years. The cliff notes version is that I kept dating that girl, and kept getting straight A’s. The other constant was my mom’s health kept deteriorating. I dreamed of getting into UC Berkeley, it ended up being my dream school, close to home and prestigious. My girl friend had already gotten in from high school, and between working, and studying and caring for my mom, I’d try to visit her at her sorority house. I would be exhausted though from everything I’d been doing and would end up falling asleep when I got there. My glimmer of hope was UC Berkeley sending out my acceptance, they send them out by mail on May 1. I had already gotten into UC Davis, but I wanted Berkeley.

On April 27, 2000 my sister Amy called my cell phone frantically saying she’s having trouble breathing. For extra money I tutored students in college statistics and left abruptly from tutoring and sped home. She was having trouble breathing, my mom had a nurse named Minnie, who was a tough as nails older women who didn’t take any crap from anyone. She was an angel that last year, she cared so deeply for my mom. My dad, my sister Amy (who is a nurse practitioner now) Minnie, and myself were at my mom’s hospital bed. I’m not going to go too much into details, my cursed memory won’t let me forget every minute detail of what came next. She passed away at 1:08pm, Minnie closed her eyes. Everyone was sobbing, and a few moments later my dad calmed down a little and turned to Minnie and said “Minnie… you’re fired.” It made us laugh a little. Everyone around her bed was exhausted, we were tired, it was over. That day, the senior pastor of a church in Castro Valley came to our house to pray, and mourn with us. I was vaguely familiar with him. His name is Larry, my mom’s best friend asked him to come over.

My mom told me stories about what happened when her dad died when she was 7. She told me that you learn a lot about your family when a parent dies. No truer words have been spoken. I spent the last two years watching my dad mourn a dying wife, he’d go into a room away from her and cry. My dad was one of the dad that people just didn’t fuck with. Sorry for the language, but he was a well known Teamster in Oakland, and he was and is tough as nails. And I watched him break over the course of two years. I had many conversations with my sister Amy, we were certain he’d be dead in a year. He didn’t have great health, and men are weaker then women, we were resigned to the fact that he’d be gone very soon after our mom went.

A couple days after she died we had a wake at our local Catholic church. The church was packed, the priests were turning people away. There was a traffic jam outside in all directions. My mom was loved. I had gotten my acceptance letter to UCLA that morning, the mail lady knew my name and knew what I was waiting for every day, she was excited to hand me the large envelope. That evening I told my family that I got in, and I also said I’m not announcing it during my talk because tonight was about my mom and not me, and that it’s arrogant to say I got into UCLA. My Uncle Rick took me aside and said “George, you need to tell everyone you got in, there’s no conceit in achievement”. I’ll never forget that. And After I gave my eulogy of my mom, I said today I got into UCLA, and a huge surprised hush fell over the crowd. I’m glad I said I got into UCLA because years later people would run into me and ask how UCLA was, and those were the people I’d know didn’t stay in contact with my family. I didn’t go to UCLA, that was a safety school.

My dad ended up dating sooner than family and “friends” were comfortable. I was thrilled, but others were not, and they made there opinion known. It seemed that the entire small town we lived in had turned their backs on my dad quickly. That was more painful then losing my mom. My dad was in three tours in Viet Nam, he lost many of his best friends. He had to mourn them fast and then concentrate on being alert and not dying. It was there I’m sure he developed his mourning process. He was dating, and my sister and I were happy for him. Everyone else wasn’t. That stung. I understand now that they were being loyal to their dead friend, but they were hurting her children who were alive. I only consider three of my mom’s many friends to be true friends of hers. One of her true friends died a few months before she did of liver failure, her name was Ginger, and she was a saint.There are a couple others I have deemed in my book to be true friends of my moms, they should know who they are. The others I’ve disowned in my heart as close friends of my mom’s. They never were close to her in my book. They were gossips, and frauds.

I ended up getting in to UC Berkeley. I ended up marrying that girl I started dating my senior year of high school. I even ended up having four kids of my own. Having kids gave me a better perspective on life. A parent dying before a child is the natural order and is expected. My poor grandma lost two husbands and my mom, my grandma died in her 90s, and had a very hard life. Now I see my mom dying when I was 20 wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I just wish I could remember her more. I wish she could have seen me get into my dream school, and marry my dream girl.

So as a type of epilogue thus far. I am happily married to that girlfriend, still close friends with Juan (Now Dr. Juan who is a doctor who specializes in emergency medicine, Stuart was the best man at my wedding). We are living a couple miles from Juan’s parents in Mexico. My dad is also very alive and happily married to a saint. We have been attending that church in Castro Valley since Larry showed up to our house that afternoon that changed everything of April 27, 2000.

The following photos are all the photos I have of her. I’ve asked some friends and family if they have any photos with no real response. Even though I know they do have photos of her, I’m not going to bother with it anymore. These photos are all I have left. I’m 40 now, having lived longer without my mom then with her, I thought today would be easier. My mom’s friend Marsha walked up to me and hugged me after my mom’s wake she told me “Georgie it only gets harder now” and that made me smile. Of the hundreds of people spouting boring hallmark phrases at me as they left my mom’s wake, one person told me the truth. And she was right.