Dear Mom,
In a few days, it will be the 23rd anniversary of your death. Although I was deeply saddened when it happened, I love the story that preceded it. You and dad were at a New Year’s Eve party at the Traymore hotel in Atlantic City along with many of your friends. Quite spontaneously you turned to my father and asked him to dance. He later told me he couldn’t remember the two of your dancing for at least three decades. Nevertheless, you insisted, he acquiesced and off you went.
Dad had been sleeping in his lounge chair in the living room and had done so for a couple of years because of pretty severe back pain. He told me that night after the party you walked into the living room complaining of a severe stomachache. You held your stomach, collapsed and never regained consciousness.
You could be a bit pushy sometimes and a bit of pain in the ass. I don’t know if I would say this if you were alive, but more often than not you were right. I remember when I was about 15 years old, there was a big dance in Atlantic City. It was a contest for kids in Atlantic City, Ventnor and Margate where I lived. I told you I didn’t feel like going, but she insisted. I finally confessed that the reason I didn’t want to go was because I was afraid that I wouldn’t know anybody and wind up alone. Thankfully, you arranged for me to go with a friend.
A little after we arrived , the dance contest began. As I recall, it was an elimination contest and there were about 30 couples at the beginning. Anyway, I Roseann and I won the contest and we were awarded a small gold trophy about 8 inches high.
Mom, as you know I’ve had a pretty successful career and have enjoyed a good reputation in the Philadelphia region. As such, I have received many different awards. I have many plaques, a beautiful crystal bowl, and many framed accolades. But throughout my career, all of those awards sat stacked on a shelf in my office and not visible. The one award I displayed prominently on my bookshelf was that little 6 inch award proclaiming Roseann and I the best dancers in Atlantic City. I don’t remember if I ever thanked you, but I should have.
Several months ago I was terribly ill and spent several weeks in intensive care. I had another urinary tract infection, but we are pretty sure I developed sepsis. In addition, there was something wrong with the way my medication was affecting my brain. As a result I developed a form of brain toxicity and suffered with delirium. During which time I wasn’t clear about where I was and often wasn’t clear about what was happening to me. Anyway, as I was coming out of the delirium, I kept calling for you and asked my nurse Tracy where you were. She told me that you had died. It was as though I heard this for the first time and I cried for you like I never have before. And I missed you like I never have since your death. And I love you more than I ever have.
It seems to me that sometimes death and life and love all get mixed in together.
And when that happens, our hearts open and love flows freely.
Thank you for loving me the way you did and for being such a good mom (by the way, I apologize for being a pain in the ass to you also. Maybe there is a gene for that?)
Loving, sweet story. I remember your Mom in her later years — your Dad too, who I met once or twice through your (adored) sister Sharon.
Your parents were very special. Your mom was always happy when I would come over to your house, Such fond memories of your entire family while we were dating in our early teens. I will never forget that you were my “Sweet Sixteen” date. You were famous for always being later and that night as we picked you up to got to my party I can still see you running out of your home carrying your shoes and fixing your shirt. And your only words to me were “please don’t be mad at me.” Lots of wonderful memories of you and your family.💕
I just saw this post. Poignant and so loving. I think it is also around the date of your accident. Sending love
This just warmed my heart. So much love and understanding along with the loss. You continue to share your gifts freely- for that, as well as your friendship, I am so grateful.
Hi Dan. What a wonderful note to your mom. I cried and laughed. When you mentioned our “March of Dimes” dance trophy I roared!! Would you believe I still had that trophy( on a basement shelf) until last summer when we sold our home! I used to tell my grandkids about dancing with you!! We were “the best” dancers together.
You are one amazing guy. You have survived so many life crisis and I will always have you in my heart. I still have the book you wrote about your grandson,Sam and I try to read most of your posts. You are certainly inspiring. KIND and thoughtful are definitely words to describe you. Keep up the good words. The world needs more Dans. Thx to your mom for making you come to the dance. ! Always in my heart! Rozanne -your forever dance partner❤️
I loved the story about the dance. I always envied the way you and Rozanne danced. Yiu tee were awesome. And how the story related to your mom got to me too.
But the recounting of your illness het home. My husband had a small accident that led to a small surgery that led to sepsis. He had bacteria on his brain and heart. It was touch and go fir months and he out of it for most of it. He finally got well enough to write again and that was a blessing. Recovering his mental and emotional person meant the most.
He struggled physically for 4 years. I am glad you came through and could share your remembrance of your Mom
I’m so glad he is doing better. I hope this next year is filled with peace and well-being for all of us
Dear Dan: I am a stranger. I listened to Tara Brach every night as I fall asleep. When I woke up, I heard about your interview with her. I am in awe of your resilience. I feel so much emotional pain and your voice was so calming and helpful to me. Anyways, February 18, 2014, yesterday, was the day my mother died from cancer. She was 56 and I am grieving all the time and I know I will for as long as I live. Your post about your mom felt like a coincidence and so I am grateful that you share your story with me. My mom was always right as well. Thank you again.
Thank you Casey. I always say the deeper the love the deeper the grief. If only you could use the depth of your love for her to diminish your suffering.
Yikes! I never “reinforce reality” with my dementia patients. I would have told you that she was at home with a cold and would come to visit as soon as she wasn’t contagious and that she called this morning and wanted you to know how much she loved you.
Or else they re-live the tradgedy as though it was the first time. Over and over again.
It’s just not nice.
Well, you are the expert about dementia not me. But I certainly advise family members to do what they can to help diminish suffering. And certainly advanced dementia patients need to hear the kind of feedback you presented.
I am grateful that my cognitive disturbance was not dementia. And my ability to cry all over again helped me reconnect with my love for my mother at that moment.
Thank you for taking the time to write