Patinka Loftinov, November 2011
My mother would have loved yesterday. "The doors to the universe are open at 11:11," she told me once. When a good friend's daughter was born on November 11th, my mother's eyes lit up with excitement for what is sure to be a great life for her. My sweet mother is heavy on my heart everyday, but yesterday was especially difficult.
I am dreading the next couple of months more than most. Tuesday will be the first day in 30 years that I will not see my mother on her birthday. Then comes Thanksgiving...then Christmas. I haven't been a fan of the holidays in years, but this year is especially trying. Just when you think the cloud over you can't get any thicker, it grows extra dark and buckets of rain fall.
I am constantly looking for ways to honor my mother. Not a day passes that I don't tell someone a story about her. They may have heard it before. I may have told it a hundred times. I don't know if I do it so that others will know what a wonderful human being she is, or so that I can assure myself that I will never forget. Either way, I will never run out of words about Mom.
Patinka was a mother, a daughter, a wife, an aunt, a sister, a friend, a poet, a comedienne (and I'm not even sure she knew it), a reader, a writer, a lover of all things creative, a gardener, an amazing woman, but NOT a (good) driver. LOL. She spent 53 years in a life that wasn't always kind to her, but she managed to find the bright side. Although she struggled with being happy at times, she never lost sight of the things that truly make one happy: laughter, great food, friends and family, a cuddly dog, a warm bed, good memories, and having a creative outlet.
Mothers and daughters often have trying relationships. Mom's baby girl grows up to be mom's difficult to understand teenager. That teenager turns into an adult that unfortunately sometimes hits the 'Ignore' button on the phone when it's ringing with "MOM" popping up on the screen because grown-up daughter has too much going on to answer at the moment. And unfortunately doesn't always return the call. I guess that isn't always the case, but speaking from experience, it happens. If they are lucky though, mothers and daughters become best friends.
I was fortunate enough to spend one summer night in 2010 talking for hours to my mother and realizing that I truly could tell her anything. And that she really was going to always love and support me. It was the most amazing experience of my life. I was so happy to realize that this woman--my mother--could be my friend, my support system, my shoulder to cry on, my everything. From that point on, we were BFF. She changed my life, and I am so much better because of her.
Then one day, a phone call changed everything. "There might be a mass," she said. And alas, there was. And that mass had quickly and quietly taken over her whole body and before we even knew what was happening, she was slipping away. And one day in February, she was gone. Just gone. If I thought that night mom and I became BFFs in the summer changed my life more than any experience would, I couldn't have imagined how February 8, 2011 would have changed it. There is a hole in my heart that cannot and will not ever be filled. And the world is missing out on one hell of a lady.
I didn't really mean to sit and type all this. I suppose there is something cathartic about rambling on about your thoughts on a computer that will published for an audience of godonlyknowswho to see. My mom certainly liked it. For years, my brother and I thought she was locked away in a room wasting time on the internet and contributing nothing to the world. We could not have been more wrong. After she passed away, "Elly Funky Boots" appeared in obituary guest books, and there were tributes made to this person all over the internet. We learned that our mother was that person, and she was touching the lives of dozens of people, if not more with her poetry and friendship. Google the name...you'll see.
So while the purpose of this rant is still unknown to me, it made me feel better. I want you to think of my mother everytime you see 11:11 on a clock. I want you to remember her everytime you hear "Stand By Me" on a radio. I want you to "smile today and everyday at least a dozen times" (her words). I want you to appreciate the friendship of others. I want you to approach new things with the childlike wonder that my mother so often did. I want you to tell the joke: "What kind of car does a ghost drive? -- A BOOick" because it was the only one she could remember. I want you to have courage and a sense of humor, like she did. If you knew my mother, I want you to consider yourself the luckiest person alive. If you didn't know her, ask someone who did--they'll tell you how amazing she was.
And you, whoever you are, read these words: appreciate every single moment you have with the people you love. I am sometimes so pissed at myself for waiting 29 years to find a best friend in my mother, but then I think how truly blessed I am to have spent the last few months of her life knowing we had an amazing relationship and I will forever be changed because of it.
xoarl
