Mom.

Submitted by: Tracy, CO

Author’s note: This is not intended to be a sad story, but one of positive humanity and the happiness that we can all find regardless of circumstance.

When we think of people who impact our lives, mothers are of course a no-brainer.  

Though there are hundreds of times and reasons to include my mother in a story of impact, I want to tell you about one specific time in my life that she taught me more than any other, and that is saying a lot. I am the woman I am today, because of my mother, which is why this story is so significant. 

Just over five years ago, my mother was diagnosed with ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis), or more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. ALS is a cruel for many reasons—not the least of which is its 100% mortality rate. Those with ALS typically live for one to five years after diagnosis while the disease slowly robs them of the ability to use their body. Muscle function gradually deteriorates in multiple body parts, while, ironically, keeping cognitive function completely intact. It is, quite possibly, the world’s meanest disease, leaving its captive completely aware of what is happening but without control—unable to participate in the activities once loved and unable to communicate with loved ones in any traditional way. The only control exists in one’s reaction to its grasp—and my mom’s control in this one and only controllable in her own life still leaves me awestruck and inspired.

My mother was an athlete and avid runner for her entire life. Whether it was running, skiing, or even curling, she was always eager to test her limits. I remember going to school and bragging about her runs ranging from five miles to the marathon. She rarely missed a day of exercise, her lithe, petite body up for adventure, her short, brown bouncing curls an ever-present staple in my fondest memories of her. Her physical dedication coupled with her adventurous spirit set a precedent…one which I would follow the rest of my life. This is why her ALS was particularly difficult for me to grasp. Notice I said ME–not her. Though I am sure she felt that she did not deserve such a terrible disease, she never once shared her feelings in that way. Instead, my mother remained positive and continued to do everything that her body would allow, even as she gradually lost different muscle functions. First it was her left side, and then her right, followed by her speech and so on. I remember visiting her on a trip home from Germany, and although she could no longer use her legs, she bought a hand cycle and was still exercising a little each day. Her determination was inexplicable, and she still kept her adventurous spirit, exploring her physicality in every way she could.  

As her physical health slowly deteriorated, she remained inexplicably positive. She laughed, made jokes, and her smile was infectious. For some reason she retained her ability to smile, even as she became unable to talk.  

This time in my mom’s life taught me that there is more than one kind of true strength. There is the physical strength in athletics. There is the mental strength that comes with academics, competition, and dealing with life’s daily problems. And there is a whole other level of strength. This is the strength that my mom showed when faced with the ultimate adversity…impending death. Not the kind that you know will be quick and hopefully painless, but the kind that that you know will drag out over years, accompanied with increasing pain and frustration, and the kind that will leave you entirely dependent on others. Most people, including myself, would probably say that is not worth it and seek another way out…a quicker, easy death. What my mom taught me during this stretch was that there are ways to remain positive despite the terrible cards that life can deal. I am not saying that she was always emanated positivity in her final years, but her ability to see the good in each day, make jokes, and smile made me realize how precious each day of life is–to take a step back and sincerely appreciate the very smallest everyday happiness.  

I remember her talking to me through her computer, and in her typical humorous way, said she would return to the earth as a bird where she could poop on those people who had forgotten that kindness is the really best thing you can do for others.

My mother survived a little over five years after her diagnosis, passing away in August of 2018. I miss her every day, and every time I see a bird soaring above me, I think that a little piece of her is watching over me and serves as a reminder to stop and think about what is making me happy in that moment…and of course to make sure that I am being kind. Nobody wants to clean bird poop out of her hair! Thanks mom. Here’s to your eternal freedom.