I wrote this on the occasion of Fabians moms passing. I thought I would like to post it again since it contains an account of the luckiest day of my life, and I have had plenty of them. It was 44 years ago this very week that a 16 year old boy was putting into motion a series of events that would change his life. Several weeks earlier he had attended a high school football game. While he was there he spotted a young lady smoking a cigar, dressed head to toe in black with a head of hair whose color revealed her Irish roots. Totally unbeknownst to her his heart was no longer his own. He immediately pressed his best friend for information about the girl. Together they schemed to crash a party with the intentions of meeting her, and perhaps, against all odds, gain her favor. Having successfully gaining access to the party and attracting her attention, he pressed on and was rewarded with an invitation to her high school’s winter formal. Of course before being allowed to accompany her he was then faced with the challenge of meeting her family. He gathered his courage and appeared at the home of his hearts new owner. In what may have been a stroke of luck, he would only be meeting the father. The events planned for the evening were the wrapping of Christmas presents. A great bear of a man, who would in fact live to wrestle a bear himself, the father, was warm and jovial and his eyes twinkled. The focus of the conversation was the father’s previous experience wrapping the Crown Jewels of England for the Queen herself. Apparently the boy passed muster because it was on the basis of that visit alone that he received permission to accompany the girl to the Winter Formal. He would not meet her mother until he picked up his date. So it was, dressed in a rented tux, a black orchid corsage, to hang on her wrist he mounted the steps to the front door to her home. Introductions were made, along with some small talk. As the couple walked down the long hall, expectations concerning time and activities were expressed, and assurances given. As the couple were going through the door anxious to depart, the girl’s mother posed the question to her daughter, “Do you have any money?” The boy eager to make the proper impression responded, “I have money Ma’am.” To which the mother replied, “She may not want your money.” That was the tone of the relationship between the boy and the mother for several years. But the boy was lucky. After a lengthy courtship, the boy and the girl became man and wife. The father became the King of the Gypsies. The mother always remained Mrs. Joyce. Until that is the appearance of grandchildren. As the boy grew into a man and gained the trust and ultimately the unquestionable love of the mother, and she gained his love, respect and appreciation for the many times that she was there for him. I was and in many ways still am that boy. And today that mother left this world to join the King of the Gypsies. In a stroke of pure coincidence I was with her today. Having been seriously ill for quite some time we happened to be paying her a visit. As we were leaving I had an opportunity to be with her alone for just a moment. For some reason I took the opportunity to express my gratitude to her for giving me my wife. She acknowledged my words and said they were not necessary. And then we left to come home. We were not gone for more than 30 minutes before we were called to be told she had passed on. Death is very much like a great lens. In an instant it brings things into focus. What you should have done or shouldn’t have done, wanted to do, could have done………. what you will try to do in the future. I am grateful for that brief moment, but there was so much more I could have thanked her for. My children are who they are because of her. I have two brothers who are in fact my brothers-in-law. But I am pretty sure she knew that. She gave it away long ago when she called me one of her sons. I have but a single regret. Maybe it was the nature of the beginning of our relationship or the length of time it took to thaw. But even with the opportunity I was given today by chance there is something I have never been able to do. I don’t know if she ever realized it, she never has mentioned it. But the lens of death has focused on me and brought my regret to me, sharpened by missed opportunity. To this day I have never been able to call her mom. And now I never can. Look around at those whose lives you share. And now, in this special season, tell them they are special to you, that you love them, that you appreciate them, give them a tight hug and hold it for an extra second. I may have missed an important opportunity, but I am thinking she has given me a gift. Now if I can only put it to proper use. I love you Mom. Joyce Mary Cavanagh Gras
Posted on: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 18:56:59 +0000
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