That's not a very controversial statement, given that an overwhelming majority of human beings (and other species, for that matter) do in fact love their mothers; but admittedly, it could stand to be said (by me, at least) a bit more often than it is. The hustle and bustle of 21st Century tends to consume all of us in a way such that we are able to reflect on such things only on certain occasions... and this past Sunday, as we celebrated my mom turning 60, was one.
I spent much of last week making a slide show for my mother - a tedious task, given the fact that digital cameras have only been prevalent in about nine or ten of her sixty years. My grandmother provided me with an album of black and whites from when my mom was a kid, and then my father (ever the meticulous photo connoisseur allowed me to borrow his OCD-infused albums from the middle years of her life. All in all I collected 195 pictures, which thanks to Mac technology (RIP Steve Jobs) were instantly coupled with four of my mom's favorite songs and melded into a Ken Burns-style slideshow.
She cried when we played it. So did everyone else in the room. But for me, the sentimentality of the final product couldn't rival that of the actual development. Its not often that you get to peruse sixty years of someone's life over merely a few days - and when you do, I think it helps you gain a greater appreciation for the genuine essence of said person.
Before putting the slideshow together, I knew without question the things I admired about my mother:
- When my brother and I were young (i.e. still in elementary school), she made a decision to go back to grad school; and she set an amazing example some years later when she finally graduated with her MSW.
- When my aunt was diagnosed with a vicious form of leukemia, my mom literally moved to Boston for nearly four months to be with her - day in and day out - so my uncle could try to keep life as normal as possible for their three little girls.
- And when my wife and I were four months pregnant with our first set of twins, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer... a diagnosis she faced with courage and ultimately defeated with valor.
Putting together that slideshow, though, caused me to see other things - different things - that I don't always necessarily notice. From the simple (for most of her life she had short hair), to the complex (she still looks at my father the same way she did on their wedding day), I couldn't help but feel as though I had been blunted - stunned, even - by the obvious nature of such observations.
The observation that struck me the most, though, was the affinity my mom had/has for my brother and I together. Even before I had started to scan, I noticed the plethora of pictures of just the three of us. Pictures from Christmas and vacations; from school events and the park. There were literally hundreds of them... and after perusing them all, I felt a certain closeness - an identification, if you will - with that particular triumvirate: my brother, my mom and me. Not to slight my father (since he was likely the one who took most of said pictures), but there is something special about those particular images that capture my mother - the true essence of my mother - more than any of the others ever could.
Happy Birthday, Mom!
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