More than once over the last week in my hometown of Chicago, I was asked how long I’ve lived in California. Thirty one years ago, when I was younger than Geneva is now, I decided long-distance love was not enough for me. I wanted to start a life with my poet out west. This was the best decision I’ve ever made.
Leaving my family and friends behind was hard, especially leaving my mom. In a selfless act of mama love, she encouraged me to follow my heart. “I see the way your eyes light up when you talk about Andy,” she had said. With that conversation, she gave me her blessing and even a gentle nudge to make the big move.
Mom came to visit us every chance she got. We took her on hikes, taught her to rollerblade, and introduced her to California wines. She enjoyed accompanying me to my favorite places, and she befriended my friends. And whenever I needed her, she flew to my side. Mom came for the births of our three kids. Vigorously rubbing my back all night long when I had back labor with Geneva, she helped me through the hours with a continuous stream of encouraging words. Three years later, Jukie came so fast that only Mom and Andy attended his birth. I didn’t panic because my mom was by my side. Her youthful energy and constancy were blessings to me. All those years ago, I never imagined my parents growing elderly.
With time, Mom’s visits slowed down, and when Covid hit, they ended. As she was no longer able to come to me, now I go to her. With reversed roles, my mom now welcomes my visits and accepts my help.
No one tells you how difficult it is to watch your parents age. Watching this process from the other side of the country feels particularly heartbreaking. Maintaining our connection now that phone conversations have become so challenging feels nearly impossible.
And so leading up to this trip, I was filled with uncertainty about how my Mom and I would connect. I discovered that love is the focus of every interaction now. I’m grateful to see her look of recognition and to hear her use the nickname she gave me when I was little, the one only she uses. I enjoy our ping pong games (her new favorite pastime) and delight in her beating me. I’m so happy to see her smile and hear her laughter, even when I don’t know exactly why we’re laughing. Joy is the point. When words start to disappear, love remains. Hugs are a language we all speak fluently.
