Yesterday was a day of constant remembrances.
What is it about memories that typically causes you to recount them in chronological order? I could never recall any of the wars in order on a high school test unless there were like, 3 choices and one was the War of 1812. Loved history – hated the conjecture and non-veiled politics my teachers threw in while thinking none of us would bother to raise a hand or roll an eye.
But when it comes to all things mothering – in order, every time, every year on Mother’s Day.
I remember the first time I saw my Mom cry when I was a little girl. I remember the first time I heard her drop “the bomb” while driving to OSU for a college site-visit in a chaotic car. I remember her crying harder than ever when it was time to leave me there for good. And I can definitely remember her face the first time she saw me after finding out I was sick.
Last week our Boy of the Year, Caleb, was also sick. In the middle of already being sick, he was admitted to a hospital in South Bend because he had a fever. Without leukemia, not a big deal. With leukemia? Everything stops, everything gets monitored, and everything potentially changes. Caleb’s counts were high enough that thankfully, he was released and avoided a longer stay.
Cancer never bothers to check anyone’s schedule. It never bothers to ask “Is Mother’s Day this weekend?” No, it is not a considerate disease whatsoever. And that is exactly why we have to do something to change its impolite course.
Olivia’s daughter, Bell, is sick too. She has this crazy cough that makes her sound like a 90 year-old man who has smoked hand-rolled cigs longer than he’s been shaving. So instead of golfing this weekend (with me and my “I’m not going to lose to one self-proclaimed Phil Mickelson”), Olivia was up all night with Bell…being the fantastic Mom that she is.
Mothering never stops. Not when you’re tired, not when you’re sad, not when you need to get groceries, mow the lawn, or teach high schoolers about Emerson, Whitman, and Thoreau.
It doesn’t even stop when you’re in the middle of raising money to find a cure for blood cancers so others don’t have to lose their own Moms ever again.
We are 18 days away from the gala. 18 days left to make a difference. 18 days to help someone have the chance of becoming a parent, remaining a parent, or maybe, in remembrance of one.
Please don’t forget.