Mother had an unconventional sense of humour and a sarcastic wit that always kept me guessing:
“What does she REALLY mean by that?”
She refused to censor her speech…
Be politically correct…
Nor understood the meaning of the word ‘tactful.’
I learned from a young age never ever to keep my backside towards her lest she sneak up on me and give me a very hard, yet loving slap across the buttocks…
Then she walked away while madly shaking her hand complaining about how much my butt had made her hand hurt.
She put smiley face stickers on her bills. Her tax returns were smothered in them.
Even during the last day of her life she could not leave this earth without one more unexpected jab.
I had just been informed by the doctor that Mother had only hours to live.
In fact, I was told that judging by her breathing, they were very surprised that she had lasted this long.
As soon as she and I were alone I took I took both of her hands and put one on each of my cheeks.
She was unable to open her eyes so I leaned in very close and whispered into her ear:
“Mother, I want to thank you for being a good woman, and I want to thank you for being a good Mother,”
“But it’s time for you to go now.”
“Oma and Opa…”
“Are waiting for you in heaven… “
“And so is Jim, and you have waited a long time to be with him again.”
“It’s okay for you to go because we will all be okay.”
“And I know that you and Jim and Oma and Opa will be watching over us until we are together again…”
“So Mother, it’s okay for you to go now…”
“I love you…”
And with that being said I kissed her cheek a half dozen times or so, and then leaned back with her hands in mine.
Within a few moments, Mother turned her head from facing me on her left, until she was facing straight up.
And then in a remarkably clear and loud voice, she responded to my heartfelt plea with the words:
Looking back, I really have to hand it to her.
She really knew how to prepare the stage….
…That would leave her daughter laughing.