MY MOM

My mother, Coralee Milner Bray, died on March 1, 1991…….twenty years ago today. Twenty years! I have lived one third of my life without my mother and am now a few months older than she was when she succumbed to breast cancer at age 60.

Although we lived nearby and saw each other all the time, we weren’t particularly close. I’m sorry about that, but she was not an easy woman to really get to know. In hindsight I’m sure I could have done more to try to improve that, but I didn’t. Our relationship was what it was…..I can’t change that now.

My daughter-in-law, Allison, loaned me a book years ago written by Mitch Albom called “For One More Day”. It is the story of a man whose mother died many years before but he is given a chance to spend one more day with her. I’ve often wished I could have that “one more day” with my own mother.

If I could, what would I say to her? I would say that I always admired her spunk and her can do attitude. My sister, Karen, says that she was “a woman with balls”…..and that is a completely accurate description. I would like to tell her that I admired that in her. Back in the 1950s, she and a neighbor woman (my friend, Deb’s mother), tore out a wall in the house and replaced the small single door closet with double sliding closet doors…..all by themselves with no help from a man!

If we wanted horse jumps, my mother built horse jumps. When we needed a donkey for the Christmas play at school (back when you could still mention Christmas in school), my mother made a donkey out of a sawhorse, cloth and stuffing among other things. Soon after undergoing a lumpectomy, she was out back with a power saw helping Darrin make a model railroad layout. My mother was a very capable woman.

I would tell her that I remember being a young teenager and thinking I can’t wait to grow up and be in total control, never afraid, always taking charge just like my mother. She always gave me the impression that she was never afraid and I wanted that confidence. Well, I’m still waiting to feel that way. Apparently she was a great actress, too.

I would make sure she knew that I was proud of all the things she learned with minimal or no instruction….sewing, leatherwork, dog grooming, tennis, golf….and she was good at all of them. My mother was extremely competitive and hated losing or doing a lousy job.

My mom's high school graduation photo, about a year before I was born

I would tell her that I know she did the best she could with what she knew. She had a lot of old demons that she never shared with us. She was only 19 when I was born and in many ways her parenting skills were lacking. But I want to focus on the positive things rather than the negative ones. While she was never there for us emotionally, she was always there physically and financially. I would like to thank her for that.

Karen and I have discussed at length that somehow she instilled great self esteem in us. For that I am forever grateful to her. By taking the things she did that didn’t work and changing them when I became a parent, I learned indirectly how to better raise Darrin.

I would point out to her that she mellowed into a wonderful grandmother. Once Darrin was born, he became the apple of her eye. She spent countless hours with him and was always available to babysit. Darrin was not quite 15 when she died and he has great memories of his time spent with her.

My mom and Darrin - please excuse the poor quality, this was before Photoshop

I would make sure that she knew my best memory of her came about five or six years before she died. My parents would rent homes on the northern California coast a couple times a year and invite us all up for a weekend. One such weekend in Sea Ranch was cold and drizzling. The guys, my dad, my ex-husband and Darrin, all headed off to play golf. Karen and her husband couldn’t make it that weekend.

My mother and I took the dog out for a walk. We discovered a sheltered trail along the ridge through the trees that meandered for a mile or two and couldn’t wait to share it with the rest of the family. Cold and wet, we returned to the house and jumped in the hot tub with a bottle of wine….or two. We were in there for hours and turned into complete prunes!

The next day we shared our hike with the guys. Every year after that we would walk our trail at least once with the whole family. My mother’s ashes are scattered along that trail on the ridgeline and my father wants his there, too, when the time comes.

But most of all, I would like to spend one more day with my mother just to talk. Now that I’m twenty years older and my life has totally changed since I was forty, I think we would have a lot better understanding of each other.

Her dogs were the love of her life and she was in her element at dog shows. She had a thriving small business grooming poodles in her garage. I would often stop by in the morning after dropping Darrin off at school. I’d sit on the steps with a cup of coffee while she clipped the dogs and we would visit. It was always superficial talk but we did connect much better as adults.

My mom and Faira - not the best photo, my dad has all the good ones

Finally, I would like to tell her that I will forever be sorry that I wasn’t with her when she died. It had been a long day and the hospital had transferred her to a skilled nursing facility after a 35 day ICU and hospital stay. Her condition was such that we couldn’t care for her at home and knew her days were extremely limited. That same evening, we had all stayed until about 9 PM. She was not able to converse but I’m sure she knew we were there. About 9:30 PM my dad got the phone call that she was gone.

I’ve always wished I was there with her holding her hand. But I also believe that she probably wanted it that way and waited until we were gone. I’d be willing to bet a lot of money that if I were given that chance for “one more day”, she would shake her head and say, “Why are you wasting so much time thinking about all of this? I’m fine. Go live your life!”  And she just might add with a smile, “You always thought I was the difficult one, look what your father has put you through!”

Rest in peace, Mom.  I love you.