A Mothers' Day Tribute to My Mom's Pumpkin Pie

If you've ever been a student in my class in the last few years, you may know a little about this story. 

Sometimes, when you are going through life, the little things are what catch your attention. I remember when my parents were packing up their Florida apartment, getting ready to move back to Pennsylvania due to my mom's declining health. My dad didn't seem to get it - that mom was sitting there watching us decide what to keep, what to give away, and so forth. He came across a small little fishing pole that she had always used when they went fishing, and said that it could be gotten rid of. 

In a small, quiet voice, I heard my mother say, "I guess I'll never get to go fishing again." It both broke my heart and made me irritated that my dad couldn't understand what was going through my mother's mind. She always pretended nothing was wrong, but this was probably her first verbal acknowledgement that something was indeed very wrong with her. At that moment, I told my dad, "Pack some suitcases and get ready to drive to Pennsylvania. I'll take care of finishing everything else and getting it up to you." 

It was the week of Thanksgiving break, and it took about two more days to finish up once the two of them had gone. I was finishing up late Wednesday evening and called my husband. As we were talking by phone, it dawned on me I hadn't even gotten a turkey for our Thanksgiving dinner. When I finally got home, we made a quick trip to the store to purchase what we needed. Stu had gone off to get something at the back of the store, and I was up at the front by the deli/bakery. 

All of a sudden, I saw the largest display of pumpkin pies and I just froze. I must have looked noticeably shaken because an elderly woman who happened to be beside me at the time turned to me and asked if I was okay. I started to sob uncontrollably, and said, "I just realized that I will never have my mother's pumpkin pie again." 

The reality of the entire situation had finally hit me. The last few months she was alive and living in Florida, I had made it a point to call her every evening to make sure she was okay. She had had a couple of falls, and because I lived an hour away, I couldn't rush down to help. This was my attempt to reassure myself that she was still there, still alive, and that everything was still okay. 

Now, when I teach students about exploding a moment, this is one I use as an example. I can never get through it without getting emotional, but it helps them see how one moment can last a lifetime. I know this one will always last for me. Love you, mom! Happy Mothers' Day.