This morning I clicked on Facebook to see a “Memory” from 6 years ago. My mom and friends convinced me to go to my Sophomore homecoming after skipping the previous year. I was never one for dances after my freshman mixer. Let’s just say I tried being cool and ended up slipping on a puddle of water in the middle of a dance circle.
That was fun.
The same picture is one of the last pictures I have of my mom and me, 8 months before she left us. You can see her face at the early stages of swelling from the chemo, her hair beginning to thin. I recently learned she had her eyebrows tattooed on after the hairs fell out.
What a bad ass.
You know what sucks? This was the last big “life event” I had with my mom. She didn’t get to see me go to prom. She wasn’t there for my 18th birthday. She won’t see me get married, nor will my boyfriend ever have the pleasure of meeting her. It really throws me off when I think about the fact that my 61 year-old dad still has his mom, and 21 year-old me doesn’t. That’s not fair.
When I shared this picture onto my Facebook feed, I got a cluster of likes. I feel like people feel obligated to like pictures of dead people. It’s almost like if you don’t, they’re going to smite you from the afterlife.
There was one comment, other than my dad’s, from a kid I went to grade school with. He met my mom because she was the school secretary and everyone knew Mrs. Weiss. The comment read, “One of the best human beings anyone could ever meet.”
All I could think was yes.
I know everyone says that their mom is the best mom. And everyone starts out comparing their mom with an identical sentence. But my mom was more than the best mom. She was the best friend, wife, secretary, hugger, and overall person. She was so incredibly selfless. So patient and pure. She could put a smile on just about anyone’s face.
She was one of the best human beings anyone could ever meet.