Moms Never Leave

My mom died about a year ago, just a few days before Mother’s Day.

In my eulogy to her, I talked about a time when she picked me up from the Chinatown bus in NYC in the middle of the night, even after my phone died and I couldn’t tell her that we were stuck in gridlock traffic and running 4-5 hours behind.

A young woman who sat next to me on the bus that night expertly observed: “Don’t worry. Moms never leave.”

My mom was an unforgettable character. She was animated by a force from beyond, speaking loudly, bluntly, and with zero political correctness.

She was a source of constant embarrassment for me as a teenager, endless entertainment as I approached middle age, and now, a venerable inspiration for her ability to speak her mind with no filter.

She had a round, ruddy face that lit up like a sun when she smiled.

She loved lottery tickets and mashed potatoes with gravy and roses.

She could effortlessly bring dying plants back to life.

She could see orbs and had psychic ability that she was afraid of and denied.

She was always in a rush to leave everywhere she went, even though she didn’t have anywhere else to go afterwards.

She often mispronounced words in English because of her thick Polish accent in the most hilarious ways. She called Burger King “Barber King” and McDonald’s “McDonuts.”

She loved to sing and dance to cheesy Polka music with a big, cheesy grin on her face.

She loved being smushed in the middle on the couch whenever my sister, her, and I would watch a movie together.

We affectionately called her a cockroach, because it seemed like my mother would be the only one of us to survive a nuclear blast. She lived through countless situations that should have killed her, more than any one person should have to suffer in one lifetime.

So when she finally did die, it was unbelievable. Not real. She had always survived and pulled through the most unlikely odds.

Our final moments together in that hospital room were strange. I will never forget watching the life leave her eyes.

The hardest and yet, one of most profound and honorable moments to witness in my life.

My mom was our safe space. Our home. Our emergency contact.

But even after her death, my mom has not left us.

She is still here, present, just as she had been in life.

I hope to be like her.

Never leaving. Always there. Present. Loyal.

A fighter until the bitter end.