The great philosopher Winnie The Pooh once said: “How lucky I am to
have someone in my life that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
To
the students at school she was “Mrs. Barrouquere,” or “Ms. Musette.” To her
friends and my dad, she was “Musette” or “Zetsie.”
To
me, she was just “Mom.” It was a simple name and title that disguised a busy
and complex life.
No
matter what we had going on, Mom always had dinner ready for us. No matter how
sweaty, nasty or dirty, Mom washed our uniforms so we were ready for the next
practice or game. Then, we could look into the stands and see her and my dad
rooting us on.
An
only child who had four boys, Mom, a smart woman who under different
circumstances could have done any number of things, had a lot on her hands over
the years. But, she handled it all. As dad worked double shifts to help pay for
Catholic school, Mom worked full-time at home to keep us on the right track.
And,
she managed to keep up with everything at the house even after she went to work
as a school secretary.
She
was strong – mentally, emotionally and, as I discovered by dispensing some
teenaged mouth at her, physically (she picked me up off the ground when I was
15).
Later
in life, Mom lived in a way she probably never dreamed she would. Mom and dad
traveled, she walked the streets of Europe and in Russia and took simple trips
to the Gulf Coast to have what she called “mindless fun” playing nickel slots
at the casino.
And,
after four boys, she finally got girls in her three grandchildren. My two, now
aged 14 and 10, would light up at the thought of “Nammy” coming for a visit, no
matter where we were living.
And,
it was definitely a mutual admiration society filled with games, shopping and lunches
out.
The
girls could always make her smile. On their last visit with Mom on her final
Saturday, she grinned as much as she could as Dad gave her updates on Olivia
tending the garden outside. Mom knew the plants were in good hands.
And,
shortly before we left the house during that last visit, Lauren took Mom’s
hand, told her about school and said “I love you, Nammy.”
Mom
smiled. It was the last smile I saw on her face.
Yes,
Pooh was right. Saying goodbye is very, very hard. But, once the sadness
subsides, I and everyone who knew her will have memories of the special person
who allowed us to spend big pieces of her life with her.
Thanks
Mom. Until we see each other again.
