On February 8, I lost a lot. I lost my mother, the person who knew me better than I knew myself, my friend. And each year, at this time, I think about her. I think about what I lost. I think about how things might have been if February 8, 1999 not happened the way it had.
What I don’t often think about is the gift I was given on February 7.
In 1999, I was 23 years old, married, with no kids, living in Becker, MN. I was working, and enjoying married life, and the freedom of life on my own. Ed worked in the cities at the time, and worked every other weekend. On the weekends he worked, I often went to my parents’ house for “chick day”, a day where my mom and I , and my sister if she was around (she was 17 at the time and busy with activities), would spend the day together watching movies, playing nertz, and having fun.
On February 7, I met my mom at my aunt’s house. We had a birthday party for my cousins. My grandma and grandpa, and several aunts, uncles, and cousins were all there. Like most Backes gatherings, it was a good time. Lots of visiting, lots of food, a good way to spend an afternoon.
I was planning to meet Ed at his work in Plymouth when he got done at 6, and we were going to head over to Jamie’s house that night. I had taken the next day off, so I didn’t need to be home or in bed at any certain time. We finished at my aunt’s house with time to spare, so I went home with mom to spend an hour or two.
We had the best time. We talked and laughed, and had so much fun. I will remember it forever.
Before I knew it, it was 5 pm, and it was time for me to leave. I didn’t want to go, we were having so much fun. She walked outside with me, and borrowed to me her “Best of KQ” tapes (yes, tapes) to listen to. We walked into the garage, she reached into her car and gave me the tapes. She gave me a hug, and stood in the driveway, with her smile, waving at me as I drove away.
That was the last time I saw her, and my last memory of her. Little more than 12 hours later, she was gone.
I am just realizing, completely, how much of a gift I was given in spending February 7 with her. I didn’t know I was saying good-bye to her, but in a way, it was a fitting good-bye. I pulled out of the driveway, watching her wave to me, feeling so much love for her and feeling her love for me in return. It was a perfect ending to our relationship. Had I known it would have been the last time I would see her, there would have been things I would have needed to say, things I would have wanted to say, things I won’t ever get a chance to say. But there wouldn’t have been laughter. There wouldn’t have been fun.
So why am I sharing this sob-story with the world? Well, first of all, I like to share pretty much everything there is to know about me. Losing my mom has been a huge part of my life, and losing her has contributed to the person I have become today. And I want you to understand that about me. I am stronger because of it. I am stronger because I have been through much, much worse than anything that has since challenged me. And I am stronger because I choose each day to live in a way she would be proud of.
But, more importantly, I choose to share this story because I want to drive home the fact that we are not EVER guaranteed tomorrow. And I know it sounds hokey, and cliché, but each day really is a gift. I am so thankful that I spent that day with her. I am so thankful that our time together that day didn’t consist of arguing or disagreements (because there was plenty of that between us at times, too :). I am so thankful that I have that memory of her, waving goodbye to me.
I won’t ever forget that.
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