Looking back on the past 4-6 weeks, the ups and downs are reminiscent of an EKG tracing…a normal one, but still. And now, being on the other side of it all, one word comes to mind. Bittersweet.

It started with making the difficult but necessary decision to put my mom in a place that was better equipped to deal with her advancing medical conditions. At age 95, no one could be surprised that this was coming, but a difficult decision, nonetheless. Especially when it came to being faced with the inevitable question that would come out of her mouth at the beginning of every conversation, “Why am I here?”. To be clear, she didn’t mean “Why am I here in this nursing home?”. She meant “Why am I still here on Earth?” as it was almost always followed by “Why won’t God just take me? Your father is waiting for me.”. Leaving me unusually speechless every time this was asked of me, I tried to tease her with “Well, Mom, only the good die young”, and it would usually get a wry grin.

Fast forward a few days, and I was given the opportunity to celebrate the marriage of a wonderful couple and be there as they committed to spend their lives together. It was a cold and rainy night in Kansas City, but inside there was just an abundance of warm love and happiness, combined with dancing and laughter and hope for the future of this beautiful couple. Truly heartwarming.

Back in Birmingham after this special weekend, many of us were faced with the inconceivable. One of our colleagues…one of the most genuine people I know…unexpectedly lost his 2-year-old daughter to a brief illness. As I tried to wrap my brain around this, my dad’s words repeatedly came back to me…”You’re not supposed to bury your kids.” And, like most things he told me, he was absolutely right. Feelings of anger…disbelief…confusion…sorrow…filled the senses of so many of us. Absolutely heartbroken for this amazing family who, in no way, deserved this horrible tragedy in their lives. And as I sat at the funeral of this precious little girl who was taken far too early, I was astounded at the poise and strength of her mother who found it in herself to be able to speak at the service. Her words had a profound effect on the many who heard them, including me. When referring to God’s plan for her daughter she said “I don’t understand it, but I accept it.” A lesson in true faith.

The days that followed brought Christmas and the expected associated joy (although I was very disappointed at an area drugstore who, 5 full days before Christmas had Reese’s^TM chocolate and peanut butter Easter eggs on display…we haven’t even celebrated the birth of Jesus and we are already moving on to the Resurrection…I don’t understand the significance of eggs in that celebration anyway…and what about Valentine’s Day?? But I digress…). And just a few days after that, I was able to celebrate a second wedding in as many weeks.

I’m of the age now where I probably should be celebrating the nuptials of my friend’s children, but both of these weddings were of friends of mine. Both stories of true love and dedication. And that second wedding did not disappoint. The food, the drinks, the speeches, the dancing, the friends, the hope…a magical night for the couple and for all those in attendance. So many smiles and laughs and videos that should be deleted. A delightful evening that will be remembered for years to come. And especially in 2024 which snuck in right after this celebration.

The call came at 12:46 am. It was a Michigan area code, so I assumed it was someone ready to extend my car warranty or sign me up for AARP, although the timing did seem a bit suspect. Then they called back. At 1:24 am. It was the hospice nurse telling me that mom had died.

The darkness of night is disorienting at best, isolated and frightening at worst. I took the words in, asked a few questions, thanked her for all her help over the past few weeks, and hung up the phone. I called my brother, who had also received a call and confirmed the news. I wanted to call everyone and no one. But luckily in my line of work, there is always someone awake. I called the emergency department and was able to tell one of my closest friends the news and share the surreal feeling that I was orphaned at the age of 53.

The last conversation I had with my mom was over the phone. She was distraught and couldn’t understand why she was “still here”. And for the first time, I felt like I had an answer. “Mom, we don’t know God’s plan and we don’t always understand it, but we need to accept it.” Those, along with “I love you” were the last words I shared with her.

A lifelong dedicated Italian Catholic, her service was performed by a wonderful priest I have know since I lived in Kansas City many years ago. I couldn’t have asked for a better tribute to my mom…wife of 59 years, mother of four, committed to her church and her faith. And in his sermon, he presented something I hadn’t expected in this situation…the concept of hope. And I realized that is truly what it is all about. Through the ups and downs, through the laughter and tears, it’s hope that keeps us going.

For those of you who know me, you also know that I am a fan (ok, maybe a bit obsessed) with Ted Lasso. And while one of the concepts presented in that show is that it is the hope that kills you, Ted proved that wrong. As did all of the characters I have spoken about in this story. Hope is what keeps us going.

Back in Birmingham after Mom’s funeral, trying to adjust to the “new normal” if there is such a thing, I catch myself thinking of things I should call Mom and tell her. And so I am relying on the advice of a wonderful friend who told me “Whether you talk with your mom and dad out loud or just using your inside voice, keep talking to them. They enjoy your company.” Here’s to hoping.