Sunday, August 05, 2007

Barbara Ann Carroll Lubin

1.20.49 - 8.5.07

She was quite a woman; generous, kind, and loving. Until her very last breath this afternoon, she was full of courage and concern for others. Never ever one to take pity on herself, my Mom refused to even let us take pity on her.

"This is not a tragedy," she would say. The child with cancer is. The fallen soldier is. "Be happy for me when it happens." So, here we are. I'm trying really hard to be happy. But, it's because of all our beautiful and shared and personal moments that I am continually brought to tears.

The bond between Mother and son is without equal among our species. To break it now is a wound and a scar on my unwritten story.

She won't really be there to see me become a husband, a father, or a career content. Yes, in the ether her spirit and in my heart her love, she will remain. But, that's something the grieving oft tell themselves to help them move on. I can only hope it's true.

What lies ahead for my father, my brother, and me, is the unknown. I've decided to stop working with two weeks left on my stay. I'd like to think the three of us will take some of that time and do something together, something relaxing, and something hundreds of miles away. Not to forget. Not to heal. Rather, to cement the bond among a trio of men that will support each other indefinitely.

She was the formative influence in my life and a true guiding light. Mom's hand, heart, lessons, and advice have played a part in everything I have ever accomplished in this world. But, I'd like to think that the flow of help and of growth went both ways.

During my Braveheart phase, I'd find myself without warning belting out a phrase or dialogue (or multi-person scene...) from the 1995 epic. One favorite exchange of mine took place between Wallace and his second-half-of-movie love interest on the night before his execution. Feeling brave, perhaps even inspired, though his end was at hand, he told the Queen that "every man dies, not every man really lives."

Maybe that rubbed off a bit on Mama. Towards the end, when it got more painful than ever before, she told me that "[she] did it all. The only thing [she'd] wish for is more time." This woman died with no regrets (save not getting earlier detection).

We should all be so lucky.

Goodbye darling Mom. I love you.


At 7:41 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry. Your mom sounds like an amazing woman.

At 9:02 PM, Blogger CM said...

I am so sorry to hear about your mom. I'm glad you don't have to regret anything, either -- I've been reading for a few years now as you left California and moved nearer to home to be with her. I think your readiness to give up that part of your life for your mother says a lot about you and your family. Wishing all of you the best.

At 11:19 PM, Blogger Kim said...

I am so sorry. You and your family are in my thoughts.

At 3:24 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm deeply sorry to hear about your mother. After thirteen years, she is the reason that I still know Spanish, and frequently use it with my own students.
Your mother was an amazing teacher and I often thought about her, even though so many years have gone by. She often used your name in examples and stories while trying to teach us Spanish. Her dedication, enthusiasm, and "tough love" gave me knowledge that I will never forget.

At 11:16 AM, Blogger JOHN TINTERA said...



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