Not because it is over, but because it all began.

On this morning, in 1923, she was born. To be quite honest, I can’t imagine how this happened successfully. The grandmother I knew, didn’t seem capable of making it through childbirth. But she did. Once. And that was the day my Mom was born.

Lucille Rita Rose, but everyone called her Lucy. At least, that’s the way she liked it. She had the warmest smile and eyes that lit up with little twinkles when she grinned. Mom liked to make people feel welcome and at home, no matter where she was. She gave good hugs, and liked to sing along. If she was sitting down, most likely, she’d have two long needles in her hands, clicking away, as rows of knitting magically unfolded. If she was standing, more often than not it was in the kitchen, stirring and conjuring. Good smells evolved.

Mom started to change quite a few years ago. Dementia crept in for the last dozen years or more, and it is difficult for me to remember “Mom” before that. After Dad died, she had to be cared for in a nursing facility, and I asked my siblings if we could move her near where I lived. They agreed, and Eaton became her new home. I went to visit with her daily, for three years. Sometimes, those visits were good. And then, other days were difficult, and I’d leave the place crying. But somewhere underneath it all, was our Mom.

In the fall of 2016, we decided to take a vacation. It was the first one I’d had in a while. We went to Europe, and were somewhere in Germany when I heard the news. Mom died, is what the email said. As simple as that.

I’ve never said it out loud until this moment, but I feel guilty for leaving her. I regret it. I’d spent so much time with her the last few years, I had it all worked out in my head, to be there when she made the transition to that new place, and that new time. Instead, I was halfway around the world. I feel as if I let her down.

I am not sure what more to write. Other then, life showed me, once again, that the choice is not always ours. The Universe expands on its own terms. And with it, we must move too.

And now, as always. I am thankful for my Mom, and for her good life. Happy Birthday Dear Mom. Happy Human Birthday to You.


“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
― Lao Tzu


“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.”
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring