my mother, my friend

Four years ago on June 17, 2007, my mother, Barbara Bryant, died of lung cancer. It was nearly a four year battle for her and she fought a good fight. She endured treatment that I'm not sure I ever could. Chemotherapy was hard and I think the radiation treatments were the worst for her, but she pressed on and did all she could do to be here as long as possible--for her grandkids. She knew as long as she was here, they had a home and stability. It wasn't about her and her relief and comfort. It was the sacrifice and giving that a loving mother provides for her family.

I spent a lot of time with her those nearly four years she was sick because there were doctors' appointments every day for a long time. We ate lunch out after most trips and loved doing it. It gave us some light moments and some good food. I learned much about what she enjoyed eating and about her, her life and what she thought about many things. I tried to make sure we had something good and made new memories each day. The days were long for us both and exhausting for her, but every morning, she got up, got ready and we left for our adventure du jour.

At one point it was necessary for Mom to have a feeding tube for a few months because of the radiation treatments. Lunch wasn't an option during that time but she still loved to think about and talk about good food--a lot. One day as we were heading home, she spotted Jason's deli in Altamonte Springs. She told me she'd wanted to go in there for a long time and as soon as she was able, we'd have to go there for lunch. I told her that's exactly what we'd do...and soon! But then I thought, why not just go see what it was like in there? So I made my way to the parking lot and we went inside.

We took a seat on the bench on the take out side and just sat there for a while checking out the menu, smelling the delicious aromas and watching the people. Even though she couldn't eat, she encouraged me to get something to go, or to even eat there. I declined and told her that we'd both come back first chance we got and get something really delicious and take our time to enjoy our meal together. After about 20 minutes or so, we left and went home.

After a few months when she no longer had the tube and her esophagus was healed, I made good on my promise to Mama and we headed straight to Jason's after an appointment. She ordered a hot pastrami sandwich and potato salad and I had a quarter ham muffalatta. Our lunch was delicious and we both totally enjoyed it. I was so glad we'd finally gotten to try out our great deli place, and so was she!

I'm naturally shy (oh, yes I am!) and not usually the one who openly stops to "smell the roses," even though I believe it's important, but I'll never forget our 20 minutes or so on the bench that first time. We sat next to one another quietly chatting, absorbing the whole atmosphere, anticipating our next time when we would enjoy our meal together. It is one of my most precious memories with my mother.

I broke the ice that day on living in the moment and Mom and I had many more times of enjoying what was going on "right now," but it's also something I have continued to this day. It's too easy to always look to what's next on our list of things to do. There will always be the next thing and the next. We can get so caught up in what's coming up that we lose sight of what's right here, right now.

I miss my mother very much and at times, when something good--or bad--is happening, for just a split second, I think, "I'm going to call Ma...," but before I even complete the thought, I realize it's not going to happen and it makes me sad. I feel the loss all over again. Even though I don't have her here with me now, I do have an especially personal insight about life and living it fully.

My mother wasn't perfect, nor am I, but she was the perfect mother for me, and I thank the Lord dearly for her and her influence on my life. I miss you, Mom. You were a good mother and my dear friend. I love you.

Suz