loss

Some days as a mom, it is hard just to keep the tiny humans alive. When you zoom out and look at the big picture, we are raising them to be well adjusted, productive members of society. Somebody’s employee, boss, friend, spouse. Think about 10-20 years from now. Will you even be alive to see how it all turned out? Most of you are probably rolling your eyes and thinking “Yeah well duh, isn’t this a bit extreme?” My mom would’ve said the same (where do you think I got my eye roll from anyway?), but she’s not. She is not here because she didn’t take care of herself. Of course, no matter what we do, tomorrow is never guaranteed, but why roll the dice and increase those chances?

I was a junior in high school when she got the diagnosis. Skin cancer. Treatable. Surgery, radiation, long drives for those radiation treatments. In my junior year of high school, our basketball team was great. My mom was at most games, always cheering loudly. Sectional finals. We had made it to sectional finals and were playing in a fairly large arena. The biggest stage any of us small town kids had played on for sure. There was so much excitement going on. My mom had something weird going on and I had no idea. There was some kind of spot on her skin, I guess.

My mom hadn’t been to her GYN in years. My dad kept urging her to go. Finally, he made her go. Literally dialed the phone and handed it to her. He knew something wasn’t right. She did, too. She was afraid. What she should’ve been afraid of, was not being around to see us grow up – not to miss a couple of basketball games.

She had skin cancer, and luckily, a very treatable type. Fast forward through surgery, radiation, and an outpouring of supportive friends and family, and finally things were seeming to get back to normal again. I had graduated high school, graduated with a 2 year college degree, and was moving on the finish my Bachelor’s degree. My sister was entering her junior year of high school, and my brother was starting 8th grade.

I’m not exactly sure how long my mom knew something wasn’t right again. This time is still a grey area of memories for me because I was no longer living at home. I got a phone call from my mom while I was on a family trip with my then boyfriend and his family. My mom had gone back to the doctor. Her cancer was back. She didn’t want me to worry and said she was going to fight this like she had before. My mom was, and still is the toughest person I’ve ever known, and she was my mom. Moms are invincible.

My mom didn’t tell many people, including her own mother. Eventually they told her that the cancer was terminal. It was spread to her lungs. It was some time after this that she finally told us kids the news. This moment I remember so clearly. All five of us, standing in the kitchen. My mom standing on the stairs leading up to the main floor of the house so that she was slightly looking up to us. Looking up like – for the first time in our lives – she needed our strength, rather than the other way around. The gravity of her words hit immediately, and tears welled up in my eyes. Then, while most moms might pull their babies close to them and cry, my mom, because she was different – to the point and realistic – stopped us in our tracks. She put a finger up and pointed at us sharply. “No”, she said. “We are not doing this. We are not going to be sad. We are not crying. I am going to fight for as long as I can, and we are going to be happy.”

She waited a long time to tell her family and friends. Those closest to her knew something wasn’t right and began asking questions. Out of loyalty to my mother, us kids didn’t tell them either. When pressed I would simply respond in head nods of “yes, you should be concerned”, and “no, it’s not good”. In December of 2007, the doctors gave her about 6 months to live. She died in February of 2008, about one week after she attended my sister’s high school senior night basketball game. She left a husband of nearly 25 years, and 3 kids of the ages 20, 17, and 14. We were left to navigate this world without a mom.

I won’t act like “poor me” because I am far from the only person I know to be in the “dead parent at a young age” club. However, I write this and tell this story so that maybe one less kid will have to be a part of this shitty club. Nothing is guaranteed. I know that I could die tomorrow in a car wreck, or have some crazy genetic thing that changes everything, but that is not the point. The point is this: if I can prevent myself from contracting disease or, if through early detection and with other good health practices in place, I can be here longer for my kids, then why wouldn’t I?

For me, this all didn’t fully sink in until I became a mom. Until part of me was living and breathing outside of me and depended on and trusted me with everything. So please mamas, I know it’s hard to find the time. I understand feeling like there are not enough hours in the day. Take care of your health; whatever part has been lacking – mind, body, or soul – like your life depends on it. You’re right, your kids do need you, but they need you for longer than just right now.

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Effie. Fee. Mom. Grandma. No matter what name she went by in your life, there’s one thing every person I’ve ever talked with called her – tough. Born in the small town of Port Jervis, NY and then moving to Rochester, NY. The oldest child of Muriel and Francis McCullough’s seven children, working hard was an undebatable truth. Effie married Thomas Glitch on July 21, 1956 and they raised their family, to include five children, in Victor, NY. Tom passed away in 1983, leaving Effie with two of their children still living at home.

Effie was the owner and operator of the Donut Hole diner in downtown Victor for over 20 years. Everyone that knew her described her as hard working, and tough. In fact, I (her granddaughter) once was afforded a waitressing job because the owner knew how hard my grandma worked. It wasn’t until her oldest daughter, Brenda, was very sick that she finally walked out of the Donut Hole’s doors for the last time, despite a myriad of health concerns herself. She was a very social person, who truly never met a stranger. Within minutes of meeting someone new she would be in deep conversation with the person. She was a true connector in that she would find something she had in common with anyone and everyone she spoke to. Of course, she had plenty of life experience to speak from. This is what drove the atmosphere of the Donut Hole. A melting pot for people from all walks of life. Topics of conversation ranged from politics, to astrology, and life, to the telling of dirty jokes and joking fun.

Effie was a woman who lived a life of service to her family and her friends. Despite leaving the restaurant business, Effie was still always cooking up something in the kitchen and was always called upon for family gatherings and celebrations to make the macaroni salad, because it was hands down the best. She was so proud of her family. She never missed an opportunity to tout to her friends about what her kids and grandkids were up to, or to insist we bring our musical instruments out and put on a “concert” for her and whoever else she would insist needed to hear us play.

Christmas. Christmas was always a huge deal to Effie. She loved the decorations – the tree, the poinsettias, homemade crafts. In fact, during her years at the Donut Hole she hosted an annual Christmas craft show where she proudly showed off her crafty friends by having them all set up in her restaurant to sell their creations for the holidays. Christmas Eve was routinely hosted at her home, which also was always a birthday celebration for her son Brian, because nobody is ever too grown up to have a birthday party thrown by their mom, as was Christmas morning breakfast. This Christmas was different, but it was done in true Effie fashion. She was terribly ill, and the plan was to have Christmas at her home. She had other plans. She passed away Christmas Eve morning, in her home. Effie now can finally not work so hard, and rest. Effie leaves a legacy of hard work, passion, and a truly beautiful family with an attitude of “if you mess with one of us, you get us all”. We walk tall because we are proud of where we came from, and we owe that largely to Effie Glitch. We love you Effie, and will miss you every day until we meet again.