Well. I’m struggling this week as I think about aging, and women who have inspired me as I become an elder…and I’m compelled to think about my Mom. I’m older now than she was when she died. There is nowhere to look but inward. She has been gone 21 years this week, and I still miss her every day. When I think of writing about her, I don’t know where to start. I could write an epic tome, volumes…17,898 chapters – one for every day we lived at the same time, most of those days in close contact. She was my best best friend.

Doris was a little spit of a woman, barely a hundred pounds, a sparkling fairy with red hair and green eyes and freckles. She looked fragile, but she was a force to be reckoned with. She did not have an easy life, but she was never daunted by challenges. She took everything in stride and pushed into possibility and unwavering hope, always. She was a tireless champion for her five children. And then for her grandchildren, of which my son had the great privilege to be first born. She was obsessed with him. I suspect he came just in time to renew her future imaginings. My son was about five when he said, “I love Nana, she spoils me rotten.” Indeed.

As a young adult I looked to begin a tradition with Mom, to find something we could do together, just the two of us. I started to buy us concert tickets, some to my favorite musicians, and some to hers. I would choose an outdoor venue in the middle of summer and pack us a picnic so we could sit in the parking lot afterwards and talk while we waited for the traffic to clear. I got to have her all to myself. I endured country for her, and Neil Diamond. I drew the line at Willie and implored my sister to take her in my place. I was such a snot (glad I outgrew that…)

One summer I was excited to get us great tickets to see k.d. lang. It would cause quite a rift with my two sisters. They forbid her go. It seems we were not allowed to support artists who were gay. She decided to defy them and go anyway. I reassured my sisters there was no need to worry, that we weren’t going to “sleep with her – we’re only going to listen to her sing.” Oh what I would give for one more day…