The 43 Years I had her

11 months ago today I lost my mom.

While it doesn't hurt as much as it did--it hurts and I know it will be a hole for the rest of my life.

Today, I'm going to talk about the way that I had her.

Mom was 43 when she had me. My grandmother (her mom) alluded to the suggestion that she might not want to have the baby. That she was too old. My mom ignored her.

Mom had tiny hands. The wedding band she wore for nearly 65 years could barely go over the first knuckle of my pinky. Mom's tiny hands were strong though. She could dice an onion in the palm of her hands--and did even when I handed her cutting boards.

Mom believed that there wasn't anything wrong with the world--or your life--that couldn't be fixed by more education. At age 82 she got frustrated with her peers who wouldn't learn how to use a computer. She thought the internet was a waste of time and didn't do email because she'd rather hear a  voice at the other end of the phone--but she learned.

Mom was the second woman in the history of her university to graduate with a degree in World Trade. (Now called International Finance) The first woman graduated a semester before her.

She quit a job at a fortune 500 company to stay home with my sister and brother. When I came along she had gone back to school to get her CPA and help my dad. For the only time in their marriage dad patronized mom--thinking it was cute that she got her degree. She met another woman in school whose husband was patronizing her too.  Together they formed a partnership, hung out their own shingle, and in their third year of business out earned my father.

I was born the year after--I was due on April 16--perfect for an accountant. I was born in March--not so perfect but still okay. I knew mom worked and I was fine with it.

Mom had no ear for music--in fact she had the worst singing voice I ever heard--but she loved broadway and encouraged that love in me.

I'm crying now--but I'll be writing more about how I had her and how I mean to go on remembering the good.