She always idolized Jackie
Kennedy. She often told me, “Jackie
didn’t cry in public.” So it was not
surprising that on that December morning in 1989, when she realized that her
husband lay dead in the bedside her, the first thing she would do would be to
put on her pantyhose. She got her self
ready for the long day ahead and then called 911 and me.
She had the bravery of Jackie.
She told me right before we entered
the funeral home for my father’s viewing, “I am going to do all I can to take
good care of myself, but I want you to know that if I should die, I would be so
happy to be with your father again.” She
had the valor of Jackie.
My mother was diagnosed with
lymphoma in 1976. She only told my
father. She didn’t tell me; she didn’t
tell her sister or even her own mother.
She kept that secret to herself and dealt with her grief herself until
1987. Cancer was part of her life for
over 30 years. She often said, “I am
living with cancer, not dying from it.”
She had the courage of Jackie.
Life was not easy for my mother,
Josephine. She had known heartache and
tragedy in her life. Her brother was
killed in fire in the line of duty as a fireman. She loving raised a son with a multitude of
disabilities in a world that was not disability-friendly. She had a career in a time when women stayed
at home. Through it all, she taught me
devotion, loyalty, endurance and faith.
I was honored to be at her side the
day she passed away. It was the sweetest
day of my life. I know she was scared,
everything was happening so quickly. She
was supposed to be released from the hospital and now her vital signs were
rapidly dropping, she couldn’t speak words that were understandable, and I was
signing papers. Eventually things calmed
down and it was just the three of us in the room; my brother, my mother and
I. A lawyer had come to rewrite her Will
for my brother’s benefit. She was able
to communicate to me where the key to the safe deposit box was. All this was important to my mother. When I told her that her sister was on her
way, she indicated, “No.” As in life so
in death, she didn’t want pity or crying.
She had the desire for privacy like Jackie.
I informed my brother that Mommy
was about to die, we told her we loved her and I can see in her eyes she was
telling us that she loved us, then, she peacefully rested. She rested knowing that all was done. She rested knowing that she was going to be
with her devoted friend and husband again.
She had the grace of Jackie.
I learned courage from my
mother. I learned that sometimes things
don’t turn out how you would like them to.
I learned that we take the good and bad in life. I learned what a great marriage was. I learned that love really does conquer all. I
learned that we live each day at a time.
I learned that everyday brings new hope.
Throughout her life, she taught me the dignity, quiet power and honor of
Josephine.
