The blanket Mom made for Paul and me.

It’s been a year since I said goodbye for the final time. Mom was sent to the hospital in horrific shape. The disgusting and filthy place she had been sent to by the State made her worse.

Mom didn’t like to be alone. She spent most of the last nine months of her life alone in that putrid excuse for a nursing home. I watched her slowly slip away. She was sent to the hospital several times because the nursing home fucked up.

The penultimate trip was the worst. The emergency room nurse was horrified at Mom’s condition. I vowed she would never go back to that shit hole masquerading as a nursing home. We got her into a good place. It was nine miles from home. She was there less than 12 hours. They sent her back to the hospital.

Mom went into cardiac arrest the next day and was intubated. The family gathered for extubation. Aunt Elaine called me via WhatsApp. While the extubation was successful, Mom never regained consciousness.

The next day, I was waiting for a call about palliative care when the doctor called. She told me Mom was there a few hours ago, then she simply stopped. She was alone again. The one thing she feared the most.

I had purchased a bar of white chocolate a few days before Mom’s accident. I was going to send it to her for her birthday. Mom didn’t eat much chocolate, but she liked white chocolate. It’s still sitting in the crisper of my refrigerator.

When my nephew, David, and I cleaned out her house, there were nine totes and a closet full of yarn. I don’t remember a time when Mom didn’t crochet. She made and sold baby blankets and newborn outfits. It brought here around $3,000 a year in “scratch.” As a kid, it was extra money to help pay the bills.

A collection of items that remind me of Mom.

Mom loved to eat Circus Peanuts. I don’t know why. It remains one of those mysteries of the universe.

One year, Mom called me and told me about the mini M&M’s. They didn’t make bags of them at the time, just these little plastic containers. She baked cookies and cakes at Christmastime for friends and relatives. There weren’t enough at the local stores, so she had me running around town buying up all these tubes of M&M’s for her. I mailed them to her so she would have enough for her cookies that year. I never understood why she couldn’t just stock up and save them for next year and keep doing the regular-sized ones.

Mom took me to see Star Wars at the Fair Oaks Drive-in just after my seventh birthday. She bought me a towel and a washcloth not long after. I still have the towel. It’s faded and I can’t bear to part with it. The washcloth still has the picture clearly visible. I stopped using it in 2023.

Mom didn’t allow my sister and I to chew sugary gum. It was always Trident. I used to read the label where it said nine out of 10 doctors agree it was good, or some such bullshit. She would give me that “mom look” when I asked her about that 10th doctor and what his problem was. Maybe he had a legit reason. I was ecstatic when she let me chew Big League Chew. I could only have it when I played baseball though.

Washburn’s is old-fashioned hard candy. She always got David a can of it. In January 2024, he made sure to give me one when I dropped by for a visit. I don’t like candy, so I never got one from Mom, but the 20-minute story from David about it makes me smile and laugh, so I kept the empty container. He’ll probably have to throw it out when he come to clean my house after I’m gone.

I swiped Mom’s union cup about 30 years ago. She also ate a bowl of Oatmeal every day.

Mom was a member of Local 415. This shade of green was also my grandmother’s favorite. One day at the Star-Herald newspaper, I came back from an interview and my publisher, Greg, and editor, Brad, pulled me into Greg’s office before I could get back to my desk. I was told there was a meeting while I was out and they had to talk to me about it and provide me with the information.

They were completely serious, so I thought it was important. Greg began talking about how great the Star-Herald was and BH Media was a great company to work for. My bullshit detector was ringing like crazy. Then, Greg began talking about unions and why we didn’t need one.

Inside I panicked a little bit. Did he know I was trying to start a union at the paper? I listened some more. Nope. Just bullshit corporate speak because newspapers around the country, especially the BH Media-owned Omaha World Herald had recently formed a union.

I tried not to roll my eyes and stopped listening. I know Mom would have cut them off and left the room. I waited until Greg was done with his spiel. When he finished, I asked him if he was done. He said yes and spoke some garbage about how we didn’t need a union and his door was always open. Blah. Blah. Blah.

“Look I know you were required to read this and you can tick a box to say you told me this, but my family are union members. I’m probably the only one that isn’t. I firmly stand with unions and always will. So, if that’s it, I got a story to write.”

Greg shook his head. Brad didn’t look at me. I got up and left the room. This mug sits on my computer desk. I see it every time I sit down to write.

There’s a story with the oatmeal, too. It culminates with “They changed the formula and they’re all shit except for ShopRite’s brand. So I sent you a package.” She was right. I don’t eat oatmeal anymore because ShopRite is a Mid-Atlantic grocery store and I can’t get it here.

The breads Mom made for her Christmas packages had to go into decorative Ziploc bags. These were available for Christmas 2024.

Not only did Mom use the best yarn possible, she always had a damned coupon. I’m willing to bet that she would have gotten this yarn at 75% off with her coupons.

I don’t know what happened to Mom’s cookie cutters, but she had about three dozen. I know she had the pumpkin one in this picture. Hers were mostly see-through red and she had them for every holdiay.

Mom gave me her spare Tupperware colander after I got my first apartment. I had it for years before Paul put it in the dishwasher and it fell onto to the heating element and melted part of the handle. It still works though.

Mom had already passed when I saw these in the store otherwise I would have bought her one.

Mom had several plastic coin jugs she put spare change in. She also had a pink poodle that was about 12” tall. I don’t know what happened to it, but she also used to have a glass 5-gallon water jug (they’re all plastic now). When she passed, I told David if he took them in to the bank, he could keep all the cash. The total was just shy of $4,500.

Mom taught me semi-sweet morsels were the best for baking chocolate chip cookies. Never use anything except semi-sweet.

Someone other than Mom must eat these. They’re vile, but they keep making ’em every damn year.

I don’t have anyone to buy white chocolate for anymore.

There are multitudes of memories, good and bad, of her running in my head. I have nightmares of her begging me to help her and get her out of that hell hole. I still feel I didn’t do enough to save her. These things, however, remind me of her. In those spare, few moments, I can smile and remember the better times before I get sad and miss my mom.

I think of her all the time. I can’t call to talk to her. I can’t ask the multitude of questions I still have. There are stories and truths only David and I know. We keep them tucked away inside. They are for us to share with each other.

There are no more cards and packages to send, no more jokes to make, no more listening to the intonation of her words. It’s just David and me now. And whatever we can hang onto together.