Tomorrow would have been my mother’s 85th birthday. Unfortunately, she never got to be that old. She died of cancer six days after her 75th birthday. She was 15 years older than I am now.
The year Mom died was a hellacious one. In a year, we lost
13 people we loved, including my mother, my mother-in-law, and my ex-husband’s
mother. Everyone I had ever called “Mom” was gone.
People who don’t worry about old age without children—because
they have children--are always telling me that even if you have kids you can’t
count on them to be there when you’re old and sick. I know that’s true in some
cases, perhaps many, but that’s not how it works in my family.
When Fred’s father’s health started to fail, he and his
mother moved from Las Vegas to Newport,
Oregon to be close to us. She didn’t ask,
“Would you like to take care of us?” She just decided they were moving to our
town. Fred’s dad, who appeared to be in the early stages of dementia and had
been diagnosed with congestive heart failure, died suddenly of a massive stroke
two months after they arrived. We drove Fred’s mother to the hospital in Portland,
stayed with her through it all and took care of her for the next four years
until she died of lung cancer.
A few months later, my mother was diagnosed with colon cancer.
In those months when she went through chemo and repeated hospitalizations, I spent
so much time in San Jose I never unpacked my bags. When she died, Fred and I
were there with my dad and my aunt. You don’t say, “Well, I’m busy.” I was
working and halfway through my master’s degree, but when your mother is sick, you
drop everything and take care of her. If my dad, who is 90 but looks 70, needs
me, I’m going.
When I hear people say you can’t count on your kids, I say,
“Nonsense. You should be able to, and if you can’t, something’s wrong.”
Yesterday turned out to be an odd Fourth of July. My friends
Carol and Jerry were coming up from California
and stopping to see me on their way to Portland.
We agreed to meet at the farmer’s market in Waldport. When I got there, I saw
an ambulance in the parking lot and wondered who might be in it. I had no idea
until I got a message from Jerry on my cell phone that Carol was inside. She
had complained of feeling strange and nearly collapsed when she got out of the
car. So they called 911.
Well, I had plans for the rest of the day, meeting other
friends to see a local parade and have lunch after, but as I waited for the
paramedics to check Carol out, I realized I had only one choice now. I would
accompany my friends to the hospital and stay with them as long as necessary.
After all, this was my town, they had never been here before, and they were my
friends.
Carol was suffering from low blood sugar. After treatment
with glucose and food, she was soon her chatty old self and able to laugh about
reuniting under these crazy circumstances on Fourth of July. I missed the
parade, but we had a good visit anyway, and I thank God my friend is all right.
Like me, Carol and Jerry are childless. Both wanted to have
children, both were married before in situations where it didn’t happen, and
now that it’s too late, they share life with three dogs, six cats, and Carol’s mother,
who recently moved in with them.
As we talked about my Childlessby Marriage book, Carol admitted that she sees what she’s doing for her
mother and wonders who will do that for her if her husband isn’t around anymore.
Don’t we all?
I pray that when the need arises for her and for me, someone
will be there. I believe a friend, a sibling, a cousin, someone will step up,
but don’t tell me it doesn’t make any difference whether or not you have
children.
What do you think about this?
