promises made

Tonight I watched reruns of The Golden Girls. It was one of my mom’s favorite shows. We used to watch it years ago when it originally ran and then we watched them all over again when they started to re-air. I always told my mom that she was Sophia because of all her crazy antics, wisecracks and schemes. My mom would say I was the male version of Dorothy because of my sarcasm, lack of patience and my need to be the boss. Watching the show tonight made me realize just how much my mom and I were like those two characters. The tight bond, the close relationship, the understanding of one another and the devotion to each other. I would have done anything for my mom and she would have done anything for me. We picked each other up when the other was down. We stood next to each other…supporting the other one when times got rough. And we laughed at each other’s stupid jokes.

My mom would always joke around and tell stories in the style of Sophia. Instead of…”picture it…Sicily…1929” my mom would say…”picture it…Hillman…1961” and launch into some hilarious story from her past. I miss those moments. My mom was quite the comedienne. She would say the funniest things I have ever heard. Her timing and delivery was impeccable. She was a natural. She did not try to be funny, she just was. There is a big difference between the two, trust me. My mom was a riot, no doubt about it. She could reduce me to tears of laughter with just a look and one sentence. But, she also hated to be the center of attention. Hated it with a passion. To have such and outgoing and hilarious personality and yet hate attention is rare…very rare. My mom was an interesting person to say the least.

I got an email from one of my mom’s best friends. She said that my mom told her that her biggest fear was that when she would eventually die I would be so consumed with grief that I would just crawl into the casket and die as well. My mom knew me well. Very well. I don’t know how I go from day to day. I honestly don’t. I think the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that my mom wants me to go on. My mom would have been devastated to know that her illness and death stopped my life. My mom had a lot of guilt as it was that I did as much as I did for her. She said that she was so lucky that she had the family she did and that she did not deserve me for a son. I told her often that she was crazy. How could I not do everything I possibly could do for her? How could I not help her? There was nothing she could have asked me for that I would not have done or even if I couldn’t…I would have found someone who could. If you love someone…isn’t that what you just do…if not for any other reason than because you love them? It seemed crazy to me to not help. I have never understood people who can help others and won’t. Truthfully, I did not think I was giving up that much for what I was getting. I was getting to be with my mom. We had always been close. But the time we spent together gave us a chance to really connect as adults, to see each other as a person who has hopes, dreams, failures and fears. So I did not go to every movie I wanted to see. So I did not hang out with my friends much. So I did not get to cross off a lot of things on my “to do” list for the past 14 months. So I did not get around to painting my bedroom and bathroom. So I did not go on a trip. So I did not do all the shows I wanted to do. So what. Now at the end of the day…all that stuff remains but my mom is gone. Glad I did not waste that time doing it. I am so thankful that I chose to take that time to be with my mom. I am so thankful that I was able to help her when she needed help, that I was able to be there to listen to her, that I was simply there to sit on the couch with her and watch reruns of The Golden Girls. I would do anything, give up everything…to just have one more minute with my mom.

So I go on…one moment at a time…second by second…trying to figure out how to survive the next minute. I made my mom promises about my life after she would be gone. We talked about the future even when she had none to look forward to here on Earth. She knew if I promised her something I would never break it. She made me promise that I would continue to follow my dreams. She made me promise that I would not only try, but would lose weight. She made me promise I would continue with the show we were planning for this summer. She made me promise that I would watch out for my family and that we would stick together no matter what. She made me promise that when it comes to my step-dad and step-siblings that I will just let them be and go our own ways…she was so worried about me going after them after she was gone. My mom was good with forgiveness…I am not. It sounds so cliché…all the deathbed promises. But, it really isn’t. If nothing else, I am a man of my word. If I promise someone something it is carved in stone, written in blood, tattooed on the soul. A promise is a promise…no questions, no breaks, no way out. I am still here because of the things I promised my mom. I am still here because of her. She was a smart woman. Had I not promised her, things would be very different today. Very different. She knew. Mom’s always know.

So to my mom…all I have to say is…thank you for being a friend. I love you.