Christmas Eve and My Mom

I dedicate this blog to my mother, Betty Sherman.

First of all, I'd like to wish you a Merry Christmas! I hope you finished your shopping and can now relax by the fire with some hot chocolate and/or spiced eggnog. Although I'm Jewish, I have always loved the festive decorations and the good cheer that Christmas brings. Many of my friends are celebrating the birth of Christ. Ironically, nine years ago on Christmas Eve, my mother passed away at the age of 80 years old. So, in the Jewish tradition, every December 24 I light the Yahrzeit Memorial Candle to honor the anniversary of my mother's passing. The small white candle burns for 24 hours.

I will not sugar coat it: when a parent dies it is hurts like hell. More painful, too, if you are close to that parent, as I was with my mother. It is no exaggeration to say that she was my guardian angel: supportive, kind, generous, gentle...I could go on and on describing her wonderful qualities. I'd also like to believe that she is still watching over me with her protective and loving wings.

There is something poetic, however, in the fact that she died on Christmas Eve. Mom loved the holidays, just as I do, for the beautiful decorations and the opportunity to give presents to those people whom we love and want to show a little extra appreciation. Every X-mas Eve, she would take me and my family to a splendid buffet dinner at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. We would be dressed in our holiday finest, and dine on scrumptious food. After dinner, we would walk around the hotel and check out all the fancy trees with their lights and ornaments. My mom cherished every minute of our time together!

Writing is my main source of self-expression, however, I still miss Mom more than I can ever express in words. One of my favorite pictures of her is when she is at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel restaurant, where she used to dine everyday for breakfast or lunch. She worked at Tiffany & Co. in Beverly Hills for 28 years, and everybody knew her there. In the picture, she is with an attentive waiter. She is elegant in her black coat, bright red scarf and Jackie O sunglasses. I had numerous people say to me after her death, how well dressed and poised she was -- always. I think this picture captures a little of her joie de vivre. When she retired (only after her doctor MADE her retire for health reasons), the Tiffany employees threw her a wonderful party at this same hotel. Many of the hotel staff who had come to know and love her, also attended the retirement party.

My mother endured many hardships in her life including cancer and the loss of three babies to the devasting Tay-Sachs disease (this was before genetic testing). I can honestly say that she didn't complain about her losses. She never wanted to worry or burden her children, or impose her problems on someone else. She was a true paradox: soft and caring, and yet as strong as the proverbial ox. Two weeks before she died, she said to me that she wanted to visit New York in the winter. "I want to see the snow again," she said, wistfully, "and the lights." She was originally from Detroit, Michigan.

I fed her her last meal on December 23. She was at the Sherman Oaks Hospital. She was cheerful but weak. The nurse commented that her skin color looked good. My mom had overcome so many illnesses in those last few years, that I thought she would rebound once more. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I got the phone call from her doctor that she had "expired" at 2:20 am, December 24.

It took me many years to mourn my mother's loss and transcend my pain. Now I see the holidays as a time of celebration -- and I know mom would want me to enjoy this time of year with my family, just as she did when she was alive. I try to instill her appreciation of life on to my son and daughter; my seven year old daughter, especially, loves to decorate for the holidays and "oh and ah" at all the pretty lights. My son loves shopping at this time of year, too!

I realize that as much as I miss my mother, I am just as grateful that I was (and will always be) her daughter. A blessing, indeed.