Remembering Our Mother

My brother, Jay, and I were blessed with the most amazing mother. She was loving, kind, compassionate, thoughtful, and passionate about two things: her family and her religion. I can remember hearing, ”Be ye kind,” more times than I can count. It’s a great sentiment actually -- perhaps one to which more folks today should adhere. Mother also said over and over, “All things work together for good for those who love the Lord.” (I guess in her mind everyone else was shit out of luck.) Her faith was unwavering though. That’s just the way it was.

Mother could be a spitfire now and then too. Her temper didn’t surface often, but if my brother or I did not “tow the line” she let us know. “I’m going to give you what Patty gave the drum,” she would threaten, though never follow through. We were to be good people, study hard, and make something of ourselves. I like to think we did not disappoint.

Our family was not wealthy. Instead of some fancy décor on the wall, beside our kitchen table, was a map of the world that could be turned over to reveal a close-up of the United States. Every day, as we munched our Cheerios or Rice Krispies, simply by looking at that map, Jay and I learned. Our mother also taught us to love nature. She adored ladybugs and pansies. “Just look at that little face,” she would say in admiration of a blossom. We almost always had a pet – a dog, cat, parakeet, or a snake my brother captured and kept in a box by the back door. (It was something to admire.) We had pollywogs too, squirming around on their way to become frogs. All our lives, with Mother as our teacher, we learned to appreciate the beauty of nature and to understand the importance of caring and nurturing.

So, it’s true. Early on, my brother and I learned to observe the world closely, which most likely has led us to our passions: writing for me, art for him. I believe we can thank our mother for that gift.

Not one day has gone by since our mother’s passing in 2010, that I have not thought of her. When times have been difficult, her voice has come to me. “Judith Lee, you can do this. Be strong.” And when I have succeeded, I can almost hear her lilting southern accent, “I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you, honey.” So, though she is gone, she is so ever present and I will hold her in my heart forever. I’m willing to bet Jay does too.

            Below is a passage from my memoir, Tumor Me, The Story of My Firefighter that tells of the impact of my mother, Honey’s passing:

To add insult to injury, on January 19, 2010, my 95-year-old mother passed away. Alex and Trevor lost their beloved grandmother, Honey. It was a crushing blow to all of us. My mother, Nola Jean Baird DeChesere, was two months short of turning 96 and had withered to eighty-two pounds when she died. In the last two years of her life she had become demented and confused, but she was so incredibly loved by our family, that her amazing spirit remains alive in our hearts today. My father, my brother, his children, grandchildren, and mine all know that she was an absolute Earth angel.

Alex and I flew together to North Carolina for the funeral. Trevor followed separately two days later. Our family buried my mother on a cold, January morning in a grave of dirt and sand in a quaint cemetery behind her church in Wilmington, North Carolina, not too far from the Atlantic Ocean. The loss I felt then is still with me; I realize that at some point every day, the memory of her slips into my mind, and that’s a good thing, really, because she was my ally, my confidant, and my teacher. From my mother I learned the power and the consolation of unconditional love. Her greatest attribute was her amazing ability to listen, to abstain from judging, and to accept gratefully what life had granted her, both the good and the bad. I have never met another person with such goodness.

Dad, Mother, Justin (Trevor), Judi, Alex 2003

Me with my mom 2007

Mother and Dad 2007