Queen for a Day

Mom lived alone for too long, I had decided. Dad died in August of 1993, my brother in September of 1995, which left me the only remaining child who at the time was retired and living in Florida.

In September of 1997, Mom began having trouble with her eyesight. The doctor said it as Age Related Macular Degeneration. It was only a matter of time before mom would lose her sight.

My husband and I asked her countless times to consider moving in with us. A loud NO was always her answer. She knew her home inside and out and as she would often say, “The only way I’m leaving my home is feet first!”

Making a long story short, Mom fell down the stairs in her home. After a short stay in the hospital, seven staples in the back of her head, and a boot to stabilize her broken foot, she realized living alone was no longer an option. The arrangements were made to clear out her house, call a realtor, and buy plane tickets. That was in December of 2010. Oh, and yes, we carried her “feet first” while she sat in the portable wheelchair.

I gave her a hug and said, “see mom? You got your wish, Feet first!”

Mom laughed and said, “Smart ass!”

While I had already established a life in Florida with many friends, I intended to include Mom in whatever we did. My friends and I met once a month for lunch enjoying the cuisine of many of the restaurants nearby. I would always place mom's wheelchair in the back of my car, then and drive to our destination.

If my friends had a party at one of their homes, they always, without fail, encouraged me to bring Mom.

“After all,” they’d say, “that’s what friends do.”

Mom was thoroughly enjoying herself and her new friendships. She remarked to me on many occasions that she had no idea that Florida could be so much fun.

I noticed that my friends always treated mom as if she were their own moms. At Patti’s home, each one vied as to who would bring mom the food that was being served. To say they catered to my mom is a mild expression.

In a huge way, it was completely understandable. Everyone had lost their mom years before and having my mom around gave them a new mom to take care of.

Mom’s 93rd birthday was approaching, and I wanted to invite a few close friends to help me celebrate her life. I anticipated about five or six people plus my daughter-in-law and granddaughter. Word spread quickly and before I knew what was happening, my friend organized a party that consisted of seventeen people including mom, me, my daughter-in-law, and granddaughter.

I didn’t have to do a thing. One friend took care of the food and beverages, another, the decorations, and another, the cake. All I had to do was take care of Mom – which, by the way, several of my guests volunteered to do.

They set the table, brought out the cake first so we could all sing “Happy Birthday, Mom” and then brought out the food to enjoy.

Mom was delighted, to say the least. It was a surprise that had her face glowing.

One of them went to the party store and bought a cardboard crown for mom to wear since it was “her” day and commented that no matter what else may happen, she would always be “Queen for a Day.”

We ate, laughed, and completely enjoyed mom’s many stories of her childhood, the crazy antics of my brother and me when we were little. Time flew by and soon it was time for my friends to leave – but, as El said, “not before we clean up! We’re not leaving you with a mess. We made it; we clean it!”

As each left, they gave Mom a special hug, wished her, again, a very happy birthday.

I could see Mom was tired from all the excitement, but I still wanted to know what she thought of her impromptu party.

“So, Mom, did you have fun today?”

“Oh absolutely,” she said, “Your friends are truly magnificent. For the first time in my life, I truly felt like a ‘Queen for a Day.