Everybody always tells you that you're never really ready for it. They're right. Saturday afternoon, as I was pulling into the parking lot at Bayshore Pointe, an ambulance was pulling out. It always sends a chill down my spine but it's common when you go to a nursing home every day.
This was the time, though. My mom was on her way to the emergency room and it was her last trip on this planet.
Thursday evening had been Family Night and we sat right up front. Nobody enjoys Jelvis, the Presley impersonator, more than my mother did. I have never had more fun with her. I honestly believe that it was one of the best nights of her long life.
My mother spoiled me. We moved to Florida when I was six years old because I wanted to. She bought me cars and clothes and guitars. I should mention that we were poor. I never knew. A single mom raising a son on a telephone information operator's salary makes for tight finances. To say that she sacrificed for me is a ridiculous understatement.
That's not how she spoiled me, though. I was surrounded with unconditional love from the time that I was born. I never met my father. I never missed anything. Mom thought that I was perfect in every single thing that I did. To her I was always the smartest kid in my class, the most handsome boy in my school, a successful rock'n'roll star.
Now, I'm not the smartest kid in class but I'm not dumb. I have failed in every endeavor. I have skidded through business and fumbled in art. I play with all my heart but I've never sold a dozen records. As a husband I have probably set world records for low achievement. To my mom, though, I was always the best. I know I was never the best son but to her I was.
This was us at Family Night last Thursday. Goodnight, Mom.