RIP, Mom

Bridget Phetasy once said something that hit me hard.

She told the story about how she would walk through graveyards and notice the little dash between the dates.

She then said (paraphrasing) “our lives are summarized by that one little dash between the dates.”

I’ll never forget that.

A few weeks ago, I was walking through the Edmond, OK, cemetery north of Danforth. I noticed dozens of graves that ended within the World War I years. I tried to imagine the years of their birth and the lives they lived. I imagine how many of their lives were abruptly cut short to ensure people like me continued to live in a free country.

But damn… still? An entire life is one dash? It seems almost disrespectful to the dead to not have more to say on each stone.

Joddy

I probably shouldn’t write this while it’s all so raw.

However, I’m not sure it’s wise to wait either.

I promise to write a more thoughtful piece that does her justice.

For those who don’t know, my mom died last Thursday. She was 73.

She was also my hero growing up.

She also had many, many demons. I wrote about this before here and here (thank you, Internet Archive).

However, she was also gritty, stubborn, and determined. She managed to make the best life she could for her three boys.

She also lived a full life, impacting thousands upon thousands of people in the community. She was my mom, sure. However, she was like a mother to so many of the students that she onboarded into the school. 30 years and 3,000 kids (and their parents) later… she continued the legacy that my grandfather started at the school.

Don’t Be a Dash, Be The Asterisk

My mom wasn’t a dash.

She was an asterisk *

She was a person the sat at the intersection and intersected with everyone. She touched so many lives (of those living and dead).

I’m already getting texts and emails. The things she did for people. The way she made them feel. The way she helped out. What she meant to them. I cry with each one.

This is nothing new to me. When she retired, her wall was full of cards and posters. As her son, it was overwhelming and inspiring. Could I imagine a life where I impacted that many people?! It would be a tall order. I’m still nowhere close, but I’m trying.

Time to Heal

There’s more to come, but just know that I may go dark for a little bit. I’ve been expecting this since her first suicide hospitalization a decade ago. Still, despite already grieving for so long, it still hurts… a lot. The more the love, the more the grief. It’s beautifully painful, and now I need to process that for a bit.

Much love and appreciation to you all.

If you can, hug a loved one. Call your mom (and dad) if they are still alive.

And just once… walk around the graveyard… and refuse to accept being a single fucking dash. Be an asterisk.

RIP, Mom