I have been thinking of my mother this past week. As happens to most daughters, I have come to the age when I look into the mirror and occasionally see traces of my mother’s face staring back at me, mocking me.
My mother would have been 85 today, but she died shortly after Christmas in 1999. She had been complaining of feeling ill for several months, but everyone – even her doctor – dismissed it as “old age”. Her other daughters urged her to get more exercise and stop complaining; I urged her to complain to her doctor until she was heard.
Eventually and quite by accident, she was seen by another physician who readily diagnosed her and gave her six months to live. Always the obedient patient, my mother died six months later. During those six months, my sisters and I took turns driving my mother, the doctors, the hospital, and each other crazy. It was a short trip for all of us.
My mother was almost 80 when she died and by many people’s reckoning, she lived a long life. But it wasn’t long enough.
Shortly before her diagnosis Mother had bought a computer and was learning to use the internet and email. She had volunteered to help disadvantaged children at a local school learn to use computers. She was afraid she didn’t have enough knowledge to offer them, that they would know more than she did, but she didn’t let her fears stop her. She was actually looking forward to entering that alien environment and was disappointed when she realized she was too ill to go.
My mother never got her chance to teach those kids, but I hope you learn at least three things from reading this:
Never accept old age as a reason.
Never give old age as an excuse.
No life is ever long enough, so while you’ve got the chance, live it.
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