May 12, 2013 – Readjusting to Mother’s Day

May 12, 2013 – Readjusting to Mother’s Day

Dirty pots and pans in the sink.  Egg shells…perhaps a yolk or two on the linoleum floor.  Coffee grinds sprinkled all over the counter tops.  A cloud of smoke hovering in the kitchen.

Just another Mother’s Day in the Ludwig household, circa pre-1970. 

I was about as competent cooking in the kitchen as a boy back then as I am splitting an atom as an adult today.  So it’s no wonder that after my mom’s annual breakfast in bed (courtesy of yours truly) my dad would always take the family out for an early lunch to complement my mom’s special day.

I believe I was 14 years old the last time I cooked my mom breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day.  I was 18 the last time I had lunch with my mom and dad on Mother’s Day.  I was 52 the last time I wished my mom a Happy Mother’s Day.  May 13, 2007.  A little over six months later my mom made the journey to a place where every day is Mother’s Day.   Now, not a day goes by that I don’t think about her.

May 13, 2007 was also the first time I called an old friend of the family, Shirley and wished her a Happy Mother’s Day.  Five months earlier she lost her only son Paul—a good friend of mine and my ‘little brother’ in my college fraternity—at the much-too-young age of 47.  I was honored she asked me to speak at Paul’s funeral and was glad she asked me for a ride from her home in Jacksonville to the service in Orange, Florida as it gave us a chance to catch up during our two-hour ride together.  Shirley, Paul and his sister Sharon were good friends of our family when we lived in Mayport, Florida in the early 1970’s.   In fact when my parents moved to Virginia Beach in 1973, I remained in Neptune Beach and stayed with Shirley and Paul during the summer before I started college in the fall.   

Shirley was still the kind, gentle lady I remembered.  She reminisced about Paul and Sharon, about my sister Hope (Paul’s first crush) and my mom and dad.  I reminisced about Paul’s love for golf—and how he could never quite get the hang of it—and his love for the great outdoors.  Paul had become a park ranger and, as I found out from his co-workers at the service, a damn fine one.  I could see Shirley beaming with pride when they spoke of Paul’s zest for life.

This afternoon I called Shirley to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day, same as I have for the last seven years.  As we always do, we caught each other up with what we were doing with our lives.  Shirley has been staying so busy after retirement maintaining her active social calendar that she wonders how she ever found the time to hold a full time job.  Sharon and her family took her to church earlier, reminding me how fortunate Shirley is having her daughter living close by.  Shirley enjoys volunteering at her church, working on 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzles and caring for her two cats—one declawed and the other with claws (when Shirley adopted the latter it was at an age where declawing wasn’t advised).

Then it was my turn to fill Shirley in on the highlights of my life these past five months (we speak at Christmas as well) and as is always the case our conversation shifted to how much she missed Paul and how much I missed my mom.  Shirley and I are good for each other that way.

A mother missing her son, and a son missing his mother.  

Some way, somehow our telephone call makes the day a little less painful. 

On the home front Justin, Josh and I took Cindy out for dinner.  My gift was the first copy (hot off the press!) of my latest book Distance Memories: Reflections of a Life on the Run.  It’s hard to believe that as many times as she looked over my shoulder while I was writing and proofreading the manuscript she never noticed the dedication:

To Cindy, who has been with me every step of the way.

She flipped through the book and found the photographs in the middle.  There were several pictures of all of us at various stages in our lives and a couple of our grandson Krischan, one with the caption ‘My best friend in the whole wide world.’  I only mention it to segue into what happened when we got home. 

Cindy had set up a Skype call with Krischan.  When Cindy answered the call (I stood off to the side and out of view since it was her day and all) the first words out of Krischan’s mouth were  ‘Where’s G-Pa?’

Then with his mother’s coaching Krischan added ‘Happy Ya-Ya’s Day—I love you,’ which brought a big smile to Cindy’s face.  Apparently that’s something four-year-olds can get away with.  But in all fairness, I did try to warn her by telling her Krischan was my best friend in the whole wide world.    

Happy Mother’s Day, Cindy.  Happy Mother’s Day, Shirley.

And Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.