One of These Days - Neil Young

"One Of These Days"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEANf4u7bzA

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
And I'm gonna try
And thank them all
for the good times together.
Though so apart we've grown.


A couple of years after this song came out, my mom died.  When I first heard it I thought; I need to send some letters to some friends of mine.  We were scattered by miles, life phases, family status, significant others we didn't like, kids, no kids, jobs and time.  I knew I needed to set down at some point and write those letters.  It has been 19 years since that song came out and I have yet to write those letters.  But I did end up writing some letters to old friends... and this is the story of how I had a chance to make everything right.

It would be fair to say I was a challenging child, I have always known what I wanted.  Add to that spunk and resourcefulness and you have me.  Doing something wrong was not usually an accident for me.  I knew what the punishment would be and I would just ask myself...worth it? If whatever was in front of me was worth a week with no TV, well then so be it. I think I saw punishments as the cost, my parents saw it as a deterrent.  I guess their plan ran counter-intuitive to mine.  I didn't get that until later.

Through my previous posts, it is easy to see that I am a Daddy's girl more so than my mother's girl, but I incorrectly misjudged my mother. My mother was a plain cook.  She kept a neat home, not a cozy one.  She was sparse with nick knacks and tighter with hugs.  I used to think my mother just didn't love me. She wasn't a hugger, nor a I love you'er.  I never noticed that she was that way with everyone, all I saw was she was not that way with me.  I thought since she didn't do those things she did not love me and I spent most of my life with never seeing or understanding that she said I love you in different ways.

My mother would always drive the truck for Girl Scout paper drives.  That was a 6 hr job, riding slow down the street as we hit house after house asking for newspapers to recycle.  Belknap in Louisville Kentucky paid us $30 a ton I think.  My Mom, made me a beautiful dress for a school function.  She would surprise us sometimes with a small trinket for Valentine's Day or clothes lying out on our bed if she had gone shopping that day.  My Mom loved us, but I just couldn't really see that.

When I was in my early 30's my mom started complaining of her right hip hurting.  That was in September.  In late October she was admitted to the hospital and they found spots on her lung.  She went through about 6 weeks of craiziness (yes miss-spelled, explained in a previous post).  I spent a lot of time with her.  I was a nurse by then.  My kids were young, 10 and 5.  I only worked a day or two a week.  So I spent a lot of time at the hospital.  The Tuesday before Thanksgiving I spent the day with her.  I gave her a bath and changed her sheets.  Mom said something about having not been outside in weeks.  I told her nurse I needed a wheelchair and I took her out.  I pushed her to the corner complete with IV and catherter and it was still a beautiful day.  I pulled her cigarette holder out of my pocket and I watched her smoke her last two cigarettes.  She enjoyed them and I enjoyed seeing her smile in the sun, content.  She had had a very rough day experiencing odd sensations in her arms and legs.  I thought she was just tired of being in the bed.  We didn't know for sure what was wrong with her.  We were told either cancer, infection or blood clots.  Every time they scheduled her for a biopsy, something went wrong, so we just didn't know.  I took my mom back inside and went home to spend the evening with my own family. 

Later that night I got a call from the hospital, my mom was paralyzed.  I rushed to the hospital, my sister was there too.  We stayed all night.  The next day I stayed with my mother.  My sister went to work. My mom made me promise that day that I would not let them put her on a ventilator. They said whatever those spots were; my mom had one on her C3- C2 spine.  If it got bigger, she would not be able to breathe.  She also said she needed to talk to my dad.  They needed to talk about where things were and what needed to be done.  My Mother had said she knew this was the end. My dad made a feeble attempt, but could not have those discussionswith my Mom, or so she said when I came back on Friday.  She had forbid us to come to the hospital on Thanksgivings. So on Friday my mother had me sit down.  I made a list of what needed to be done at home.  I made a list of what she wanted to be laid out in.  What color hair color to buy to dye her hair on Monday.  She told me she wanted her diamond engagement ring to be given to my brother so that he would ask his girlfriend to marry him (and yes they did get married later on).  My mom made me promise to keep my dad busy and to look after him when she was gone.  And then she asked me to do one of the hardest things I have ever done.  My mom asked me to get some paper and to write letters to those she loved.  I wrote to my brother and sister.  I wrote to her friends.  The hardest one was to her youngest sister, Beb.  I will never forget the sound of her voice, Beb,  Ohhhhhhhhhh Beb that letter began.  I still have to this day the paper that I wrote on so quickly to keep up with my mom.  Later I would transcribe those letters on to cards, which I gave to the individuals at her funeral. 

Growing up, I was never the go to kid of the three of us.  I was never the one, who was enough.  I was the one that challenged life on a daily basis.  But in that time of need, my mother pulled me in and said that she needed me to do these things and she knew that I could and would do them.  She also asked me to stay by her side and make sure she got only medication for pain relief and made me promise that when the end came, she would not know she couldn't breathe.  I did all those things.  I stood up and took it.  I stood up and defended her.  I stood up and held my father up.  I stood up and did those things that only a hard-headed willful child could do.  I stood up and would not be moved an inch from what my mother wanted. 

So I have never sent my letters, but I did send my mothers.  My only regret is I did not get that she loved me in her own way until after she was gone.  I don't know now if she asked me because she knew I could do as I was asked, or if she created the one scenario that could let me know she needed me, loved me, wanted me.  For whatever her reasons, I sat down and wrote some long letters, long letters to the ones she had known.
Some are weak, some are strong.

I miss her always.  Even though most of my stories are of my dad, it was my mother that taught me loyalty, resourcefulness, and hard work.  If I had not learned those things from my mother, I would not be able to do the fun things I learned from my Dad.  I wish I could tell my mother Thank you.  I want her to know that her needing me then, made all the things I hadn't done right, right.  My mother made sure I knew I was enough when all was said and done.  I only wish I could have told her that I finally got it...and she was enough too.

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
One of these days,
one of these days,
one of these days,
And it won't be long, it won't be long.