My mother passed away this weekend. I knew a day would come when I would likely write those words. But not this weekend. My mother, Nancy Dee Long, suffered from a blood disorder known as Poly Vera. She battled the disease for nine years and was doing well. but about one in five people with Poly Vera transition to Acute Leukemia. After a weekend where mom had my twin girls and two other cousins out for a sleep over, she felt great.
Then on Wednesday she became ill and late on Thursday, was admitted to the hospital. Things moved fast and by Saturday morning, mom was gone. The illness hit her like a speeding freight train and there was little anyone, doctor or otherwise, could do.
My mother was an incredible woman. She worked hard, laughed easy and loved well. Raising three boys she kept us in line and was our safety blanket when anything went wrong.
But what I will remember most about my mother, is her sense of humor. Even with a deadly disease ravaging her body, she found a way to smile and worry more about others than herself. She joins her brother, Skippy, and sister-in-law Sandy, in heaven. I can imagine the reunion.
One memory I have of the two of them is from when I was around the age my girls are now, about ten. I was playing Chinese Checkers with Mom, Skip and my brother and cousin. It looked like mom was going to win and she started to needle my uncle. Skippy then put one of his marbles in her home base. My mother told him he couldn’t do that, to which my uncle had me read out the rules from the box top. No mention of not being able to make such a move. When my mother pointed out he wouldn’t be able to win, he responded neither woulds she. A few moves later, I won and we started over. My mother’s first order was to move a marble into Skippy’s home base. Everyone laughed.
I will miss my mother. I love her very much. I choose to celebrate the happy memories we all shared with her, than dwell on our tremendous loss. If your mom and dad are still with you, call them today. Hug them as soon as possible. You never know when “the” weekend will come.