Mom-In-Law

My mother-in-law is a treasure.  At eighty-two she is sharp, funny and sentimental.  We are blessed to still have her.  She is smarter than she thinks she is, and wittier than an outsider would guess.

She had heart surgery and other major surgery over the last few years.  She bounced back amazingly well.  She is a trooper. 

When she fell on the ice a couple of months ago, we were worried that she may have broken a hip.  She didn't want to go to the hospital, and could not be persuaded.  Instead,  she hobbled on crutches; she rode around in a wheelchair for weeks.  She finally saw a doctor.  She has a fractured pelvis.  You wouldn't have guessed.

Joan has a gentle manner most of the time, but her eyes can flash with anger.  Her tongue can speak kindness, or it can be a sword.  She is real.  She  loves the warmth of a hug.  She loves her children and grandkids and great-grands.  She is patient with them, far more than I ever was.  She will read to them and play games and fix their favorite foods.  They all adore her.  She likes the weather hot and sunny; she likes the waves and the water.  On a holiday, you will find her preparing a picnic, with enough energy left over to go to the fireworks.

I can talk to Joan like a friend, or rely on her as I did my own Mom.  We share the difficult things like diabetes, and the simple things like strawberry shortcake.  We love birds and knickknacks, flowers and the Nutcracker Suite.  She still has the Santa I put on a gift for her when I was sixteen; it hangs on her tree.  She still has the miniature bottles I gave her when I was twenty-one.  I still have her son.

My sons are engaged to women who are good for them.  They are respectful and kind to me.  We can share stories, or go shopping or just sit over a glass of wine or a cup of coffee.  I love those girls as though they were my own daughters.  I hope they feel the same way about me.  The greatest gift would be to have them love me like I love Joan.

Mother's Day will be here in another month.  It will be the first one that I won't be sharing with my own mother.   I still cry for my Mom, though not as much.  It is getting easier to remember the days we went to flea markets and ate custard pie.   When I tell Joan about my Mom, she shares her memories of her own mother.   We laugh and cry together.

I know the time will come when I won't have Joan to lean on.  She has an inner strength that I have come to appreciate, and I will miss that.  I will miss her energy and our private jokes (ask her about the black homefries sometime).  Until then, I will make it a point to tell her how much I care.

 My carnation at church will be white for the first time this Mother's Day.  It hurts.

At least I still have Joan.  I wish her a long, healthy life.  I love you, Mom-In-Law.