It was December 23 and I received a call in my office from my sister. My mother wasn’t feeling well and she had just taken her to the doctor. I asked her if everything was okay.
“Not really,” she said with an eerie calmness in her voice. “Mom has a tumor the size of a grapefruit on her colon.”
I asked, “Is it cancer?”
“Yes,” she said. “She’s going to be operated on tomorrow and it doesn’t look good.”
I hung up the phone, fell to my knees and screamed at the top of my lungs. I looked straight up to heaven and said, “God, you cannot take my Mother. I won’t let you. I swear, if Mother dies, I will become a Satan worshipper.”
Okay, so this wasn’t exactly the smartest move on my part – you know, threatening God is not too bright.
Anyway, we all went to my Parent’s house that evening and of course we were devastated. My incredible mother could see the pain in the faces of her girls. She gave us her “look” and said, “Girl’s, I want to talk to you.”.
She sat us in her tiny TV room (her alone domain) and said, “OK stop this and stop it now. First of all, you’re all walking around her like you’re at a funeral – I’m not dead yet. And listen very carefully, I’ve had a great life. I’m 69 years old and have no regret. Remember, if something happens to me tomorrow, I know you will all cry. But understand, that if I die before my children and my children die before their children then we will be blessed. That, my daughters, is the circle of life.”
She had her operation and the doctor felt confident that, despite the size of the tumor, he had gotten it all – what a blessing! It was Christmas Eve and naturally, we had all spent the day at the hospital. My husband, son and I arrived back in Boston around 8:00 PM, but the last thought on our minds was Christmas Eve.
As we arrived home, the concierge told us that the Maitre d’ from Aujord Hui at the Four Seasons called to see how everything turned out. Living right next door to the Four Seasons certainly made us regulars. Our concierge then told us some gentlemen wanted to drop by briefly to wish us a “Merry Christmas.” Part of me wanted to simply say, “Please tell them we’re not here,” but I didn’t.
Guess what? It was Steve, the Maitre d’, his assistant Dante and a server named Jeffrey – all armed with platters of food. Christmas Eve Dinner (with all the trimmings) courtesy of these remarkable gentlemen.
How much better can a Christmas Eve get when you’re given the gift of love AND the gift of having your mother for another 9 years? That Christmas Eve could have been memorable for so many reasons, instead, it will forever be one etched in my brain as one of the best!
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