By Grant McGee
The night before my mom died I had fallen asleep in my recliner. I was awakened by the ring, a long ring, of an old-fashioned telephone … in my head.
They tell me my mom passed away about two hours later.
In my way of thinking, that old-fashioned phone ring was my mom letting me know she was leaving.
I mean, I know my mom, the greatest mom ever, couldn’t stay around forever.
She had a good journey, 95 years worth.
She was a teacher, she taught business stuff: Typing, shorthand and things like that.
Mom may have found her toughest student in me. When I took a typing class she wondered why I couldn’t teach myself, she couldn’t understand why I didn’t “get” Algebra and she threw her hands up in frustration trying to teach me how to dribble a basketball.
My mom was always there for me, she would sit in the sun reading a book while I rode my tricycle round and round the bases of big city monuments, she took me fishing, dropped me off for Boy Scout stuff and so much more
Mom was all about the pushing forward in life. She wasn’t one to linger in the past. Nothing showed that more to me than the time I was listening to the ’70s rock band Pink Floyd when she came into my room and said, “I like that.”
Years ago I would tell her about my latest personal trainwreck. She would laugh, say it was all part of life then repeat a line from an old song, “Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again.”
One of my favorite memories is of my mom waking me up on school mornings, saying in a loud voice, an old Longfellow quote: “Let us be up and doing with a heart for any fate!”
Mom will always be in my head.
But I know the reality too.
And I’m going to miss her.
Grant McGee is a long-time broadcaster and former truck driver who rides bicycles and likes to talk about his many adventures on the road of life. Contact him a his blog: grantmcgeewrites.com