Impermanence is a key theme in Buddhism. In an effort to cultivate presence and mindfulness, there is a focus on approaching interactions and activities with the idea that it could be the final opportunity you have for that interaction and that activity. If you knew it was the last time, how much more intentional and aware would you be? I have thought about this for years and the reminder hits me at different times. Practicing yoga with this mindset has led to far more presence on the mat and intentionality in my movement. A morning cup of coffee has tasted far more savory when I have slowed down enough to appreciate it. We go through so many motions in life and it is beyond easy to tune out real life interactions for something, likely inconsequential, on our phones. It is easy to take life and people for granted. Had I known last Christmas would be the last one I would spend with my mom, would I have done anything differently? Would there have been more appreciation? More savoring the moments? More…I don’t know, more of everything I guess. I’m not sure. She passed away last week. While I am finding it difficult to not think about how terrible her last five months were, the point of this piece is to honor the majority of her life. Who she was, and how it shaped me into who I am today. I was able to tell her that she was the exact mom I needed her to be, to help me become the mom I was meant to be. None of us get it perfectly. Any of it. We are all a product of our upbringing, our experiences, our design, our choices. Growing and evolving throughout our lifetime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mom loved this blog. She was likely my biggest fan. Just like me, she loved love. Loved men. Loved experiences, and had many of them. One of her goals was to stay alive long enough to see me have my love story. No pressure there! She wanted to see who I ended up with. On our last night together, I told her that maybe she was going to make that connection happen, a little cupid from up above. And just in case that is how it is going to work, I told her exactly what I am looking for, to make sure we are on the same page. The day after her passing, I saw men everywhere. Even at the nail salon. A good looking guy, there by himself, next to me at the pedicure chairs. We talked for a brief moment, but needless to say, I was not feeling too sparkly. But I felt like it was a reminder from her that when you are meant to meet your person, you meet. It doesn’t matter where. It’s not up to me to try hard. To swipe until my thumb hurts. To orchestrate my day just so. It just happens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was fiercely independent. Went to Europe by herself when she was 40. I did the same, a few years later in my life. Quick witted. Brought humor at the perfect moments. One of those moments was years ago, when I called her in tears. I had just moved out from a quick live-in situation with a boyfriend. Start to finish, it was under two months. Needless to say, it was a big deal and a big mistake, and I was reeling. He stopped by my new place, unannounced, a week or so after my big move out. He sat there in my living room, telling me about all of the hot women he had been dating. How all of these things, that had really bothered me about him, were now fixed. Went on and on about how great everything was. When he finally left, I called her and recounted the conversation. She listened until I finished and said, “honey, it sounds like you were really holding him back.” We both burst out laughing and just that line, pointing out how ludicrous his storytelling was, expedited my healing journey. There were so many similar type moments throughout our relationship. The humor continued until her final days. And impending death needs the softener of humor. I am grateful for that. Even her doctor said that she was both laughing and crying, due to what my mom said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n