My Aunt Maureen, the Nurse

My aunt Maureen died this weekend. She was a nurse. I remember when she received her nurse's hat. It was white and crisp and we were all called in to see it in its hatbox. We stood around admiring it like we would have if it were a new baby.

I was pretty young at the time, but I remember it clearly. We were proud of Aunt Maureen for being a post-college graduate. Her hat was the symbol of her achievement, determination, her courage and her devotion.

Much later, when I was nineteen, I had surgery for a kidney problem. My Aunt Maureen volunteered to be my private nurse. My parents did not have to fear that I was not well taken care of late at night, or between nursing shifts, because my Aunt Maureen sat with me every night until I was out of the woods. My hospital stay was 21 days. I don't remember exactly how long Aunt Maureen stayed with me, but I remember that her no-nonsense approach and vigilant watch made me feel loved and safe.

Nurses don't wear hats much anymore. They should. Dignity, respect, compassion are all embodied in that hard-earned symbol of achievement. I had an Aunt Maureen who wore one proudly.

Tonight, a mother cries...

Tonight a mother cries. She is the same mother who, on Friday night, continued to have hope that her son would beat his leukemia as he had his cancer. The cancer treatment put the cancer into remission, but caused the leukemia. He would have graduated from high school in June. Tomorrow he will be buried. My heart is broken for this woman I have never met.

I, too, have a son who is a high school senior. Tonight his fresh mouth and snarly attitude made me feel awful. So often, lately, I question why he hates me when all I want is for him to grow up to be a fine man. And I thought of the woman who will never see her son grow into the man he would have become. I cannot fathom her grief, her despair, her limitless faith.

As mothers, we all too often point fingers at each other: she lets her kids drink soda, she lets her kids play violent video games, she doesn't seem to care what grades her children get, she stays at home, she leaves her kids in day care. All of the criticism we level at each other means nothing tonight. A mother is crying because the best person she ever knew, the person she loved best, has died. We feel a pain, but even as we do, we know that it is nothing like hers.

Tonight, a mother cries. And every mother cries with her.