Just your everyday mom (who also happens to be super cool, ever-evolving and full of love).
Just over a year ago, my mom’s mother died alone in her apartment in San Diego. While she didn’t die of Covid, I strongly believe it was the isolation, loneliness and hopelessness from quarantine that prevented her from having the balance she needed to keep living at 86-years old.
Within days, my mom and one of her brother’s strategized a safe way to travel from Michigan to pack up my grandma’s apartment in San Diego.
Although I was only 2 hours away in Los Angeles, I hadn’t been 100% quarentinning. As 1 out of 3 execs, my role was crucial in maintaining operations of an essential manufacturing company. Not to mention, as a single middle-aged and childless woman, I felt that my work was my identity, my main purpose and my only joy amidst a global crisis. So, just like everyone in those early days of Covid, as the dominos of pain and fear pushed forward with great force and momentum, I simply clung to the only things I could trust: myself, my own safety and my job.
However, when my grandma died, I knew I needed to be there for my mom and family. So, instead of taking some time off, I chose to keep working and just add a little more to my plate. After quarantining, I was able to go to San Diego and say a profound goodbye to my elderly best friend with my mom and uncle. We packed, we shipped, we moved and I Zoomed with all different departments, employees and the President of my company to ensure all kept moving fluidly without hiccups or bumps in the road.
My mom and uncle went back to Michigan and I was now alone again, in my cozy, safe home. Yet this time, the grief settled in. Now that I was allowed to work from home, I clung to a few more things: spirituality, painting, therapy, family friends that were “safe,” and of course, still work.
Then, a few months later, my dad had a procedure that wreaked havoc on his body. As a Marine Veteran who had served in Vietnam, his body has always had severe pre-existing health conditions. All my life, he had candidly spoke to my brother and I about his death, trying to prepare us for something that no parent can ever prepare their child for. To say that we were terrified by his body’s reaction to such a “simple” procedure, is the understatement of 2020.
Do I go home? What if I catch Covid on my way?
Since my parents had rented a non-refundable home in Palm Springs for us all to spend Christmas and the winter with each other, we decided it would be best for me to just keep working from home and meet them in Palm Springs. The doctors were reassuring and optimistic that his bad reaction was just temporary.
So, we trusted the doctors and I got OCD about being careful not to get Covid because all I wanted to do was hug my dad on December 20, 2020.
By December 15, it was clear that he was not improving and should not travel. My parents insisted that I get out of the city, a hotbed for Covid, and enjoy some desert sun and fresh air.
I packed my plants in my car like they were my children, Christmas decorations and photography equipment. If I couldn’t be with two of my favorite people in this world during the holidays, then I wanted to have a creative reset. I was ready to finally unplug from work and take some time to connect with my writing and photography.
Life had other plans; I got Covid and it was horrific.
Alone, in a beautiful desert abyss, I nurtured myself with vitamins, solfeggio frequencies (aka “angel music”), organic foods that I prepared myself and lots of liquids like tea and water.
Meanwhile in Michigan, my mom sank her feet deeper into her personal Catholic faith and found herself in a scary new role as a caretaker, to the man she had admired all her life.
Long before this ever happened, she has always said, “I am not a Nurse Nightingale.” Much of this was due to her own boundaries she needed to create for her relationship with her own mother.
She also was forced to release her fears over me, her one and only daughter, dying alone on the other side of the country. Not only did she trust me to take care of myself, she trusted that God would also keep watch. Along with my own personal “safety circle” that consisted of my doctor, therapist, boss, and soul-mate friendships.
Soon enough, she also found herself in awe of Nurse Nightingale’s history, impact and legacy.
Now, as we come up on a year, she is finding herself in need of a little balance. Coincidentally, I also could use a little help, too.
So, we decided to have a safe little staycation, here in California. We are CLEANING, organizing, cooking, laughing, watching old movies, taking long talks and talking about the past with insight.
Life is way too short and we are seeing that every single day. It’s so important to slow down, embrace our loved ones and take time to just bask in the simple pleasures that life has to offer.
Thank you, mom for kicking off this journey with me.