A week ago I was driving back with Moe from Albany and my Dad called my cell phone, something he never does. I answered and he quickly told me that my Mom had been taken to the hospital after losing consciousness in the car as he was driving in Woodstock. My Dad isn’t one to panic, but there was something in his voice. He asked me to pick him up in Woodstock and bring him to the hospital.

The hospital experience was surreal. Thanks to covid, there’s no waiting rooms and apparently no private areas. The doctor came out to greet us and brought us into what turned out to be an EMS lounge room. As he was trying to tell us what happened and how Mom hadn’t made it, people were coming in and putting sandwiches in the fridge. It eventually was all out there.

My Mom was gone.

44 years of her love, her support, her constant cheering me on no matter what she thought of what I was doing (though she always let me know that too). It all suddenly disappeared.

The rest of the week was mostly a blur.

The kindness of those around us sticks out. The help that’s been provided, the distances traveled to honor my Mom, the community that has tightened ranks around us. I’m forever grateful.

Now it’s trying to process an indescribable loss we all experience at some point.

I love you Mom and I always will hold you in my heart.