What has struck me hardest about the loss of my mother is how the future is suddenly frightening. It is not, as you might expect, a fear of death. It is a fear that there is no longer anyone to shelter me from the storms of life. It is a bit absurd for a 63 year old man to suddenly feel unprotected – it, after all, has been many, many years since my mother has taken an active roll in my affairs.
But there was something in our mother’s presence that was always tough, gentle, hopeful, and eternal. When I think back, I see her stately as an old woman, elegant in middle age, vivacious in her youth. She never missed an opportunity for a joke, failed to take an extra minute to listen to the current struggle of a son, or pass up the offer of a cocktail. She was a favorite of our friends growing up. The house was always full of football players and college friends, and errant artists. It was common, even into adulthood to be told how lucky we were to have such a mother. Although most of the friends that lay around our house for decades were men, I think perhaps Mom’s greatest impact was on the women that she touched. Remember that we grew up in a time of staggering transition. During the mid-century battles over racism and sexism, the three of us boys had an incredible moral force to guide us. As impossible as it now seems, she was the first person I knew to ban the word “nigger” from a home. Few of our peers had mothers who worked outside the home. The fact that Mom was a businesswoman did not seem unusual to us, but fascinated the young women who came in contact with her. She positively influenced all our friends – and not just the football players, and fraternity brothers. Mom touched the girlfriends, the wives, the daughters, the granddaughters in ways that I am only now coming to fully understand.
She died early in the morning and, regretfully, Scott and Roxy were the only ones that were there. I live a couple time zones away so the call came very early, and on a morning when Jill was off working. The message was simple: “Mom passed away last night.” I could tell that Scott had been crying and after those five words neither of us spoke. All I could manage was, “Oh Shit.” We stayed on that silent line for another few seconds and then, as brothers will do, we communicated that there was nothing more to say. “I’ll call you later,” Scott said. He hung up and I was left lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t know how long I lay like that but finally I called Jill. It was a similar conversation – short, energy charged, stunned. Jill said she was on her way home. The phone had lain on my chest for only a few minutes when its ring startled me. It was our 23 year old daughter, Jilian, and when I held the phone to my ear I heard the first real sobs of the difficult week that followed. Jilian is a junior in college, working on a BS in Business Administration and working in our family business. She was crushed and wailed about the debt that she owed Mom. “She was exactly the kind of woman I want to be.” The sobs rose and all I could hear through them was Jilian gasping. “I can’t catch my breath.” But then she rallied. “The neatest lady I’ve ever known,” she said.
And Jilian only knows a part of it. Mom had a way of making you believe. I remember three little boys in the bathtub in the nineteen fifties, a pretty young woman, not much older than Jilian, scrubbing them all down and timing them to see who could hold their breath the longest. We would stick our heads under the water and Mom would count. One thousand one, one thousand two and Brother Mike would always win but Mom said it was because he didn’t put his whole head under water and he was getting some air through his ears. I didn’t realize how powerful a mother’s influence is until many years later in a college chemistry course with the professor lecturing on Boyle’s law concerning volumes of gasses. The discussion turned to human respiration. He was talking about how the volume of air inside the lungs had to be equal to what comes through the nose and mouth. My hand shot instinctually into the air. “Yes,” the professor said, “Mr. O’Brien.” Luckily, I had an instant to think before I spoke. “Ahhh, Never mind,” I said.
Mom did not have the answers to everything, but she knew how to find them – show up, work hard, do your best, and be fair. Be fair. Be fair. Be fair. It has been the maternal mantra that has never left me. If Dad took Scott fishing on a given weekend, Mom would insist that Mike and I got equal time on the next weekend. A piece of cake would be divided scrupulously into three equal pieces. But the lesson in fairness that has remained firmest in my consciousness was of a far more serious nature than a fishing trip or a piece of cake. I think it is only right to bring it up in this venue because it was in this very country club that the injustice that fueled the life-lesson occurred. Mom loved this place and for most of her life came out here to eat at least once a week. But think back to nineteen sixty, the beginning of the great decades of change that shaped most of us in this room. Remember how we were so surprised at who actually stepped up to insist on those changes? It was an 8th grade dance sponsored to interest young people in spending more time at this country club. I was twelve. Mike was ten. Only Scott was old enough to go to the dance. He actually had a date. No doubt his first, and was allowed to bring a second couple. Scott chose Eddie Mac Brown and his date. They were all at the house before Mom and Dad took them out here to the country club, for their first dance. Those four kids – in their little sports jackets and party dresses were cuter than Christmas and Mike and I giggled from the kitchen, too embarrassed to confront the idea of girls and boys together. By all accounts they had a wonderful time and as far as I knew the evening had been a success. It was years later that I learned the reason why, for a dozen years the O’Brien’s relationship to his place cooled. Apparently a letter from the country club committee appeared explaining that the idea of the youth dance had been to encourage youth participation. Mom and Dad were advised that it was wonderful that Scott and his date participated, but at future events, if Scott insisted on bringing his friend Eddie Mac Brown that the O’Brien’s might consider resigning their membership. Mom’s response to the letter was a letter saying she would not resign but if the country club did not like Scott’s friends they should vote us out. You see, Eddie Mac Brown and his date were African Americans. Mom believed in fairness. It took a decade for this Country Club to catch up to Mom.
You don’t forget what your mother teaches you. The influence of a woman like Mom spreads like the roots of a great tree. Runners and new branches sprout up forever. There have been a lot of tears in the last weeks and there will be many more. Jilian could not make it to this celebration but I will tell her about it when we get home. I am sure we will collapse into each other’s arms. If, through her sobs, she has trouble breathing I will tell her to breath through her ears. My mother taught me that such things are possible.
Comments 32
Dear Dan….
Please accept my sincere, albeit belated, condolences for your loss.
With kindest regards… Michael
Lovely to read, Dan, especially resonant to Henry and me. Henry’s mother passed away last week.
Dan, So sorry for the loss of your mother. She sounds like an amazing woman. I’m sure she walked on thankful to have such a wonderful son who loved and appreciated her and listened to the lessons she taught. That’s any mother’s dream. Thank you for sharing your memories. ~Carie
Your messages hit on target with my heart. When my dad died in 2007 I felt the same feelings – the barrier, the shelter, the experienced elder out there in front of me was gone. I’m the one now facing the world. Thanks Dan for sharing your thoughts about this change in your life and your families’ life. It’s good to know we really aren’t alone – that we share similar emotions especially during life’s big changes.
Dan, I am so sorry for the loss of your Mother. She sounds like a fabulous woman. Your memories brought tears to my eyes and I am so grateful you shared some of your wonderful memories with all of us. I never had the honor of meeting your Mom, but I am very happy to be able to know one of her sons and to be able to call him my brother inlaw. I know you will miss her so much, but your memories will keep her forever in your heart. Love and miss all you guys!!! Take Care! Love, Trese’
Dearest Dan –
Heartfelt wishes to you during your struggle to learn how to live without your “one of a kind” Mom. No matter the age, when we lose one of our beloveds it has a tendency to leave us feeling incomplete somehow.
I have never forgotten and have remained grateful for her kindness to “the new kid” in your 6th grade class.
May your heart find peace and balance soon.
Love always,
Sara
Dan, So sorry for the loss of your Mother. The memories you shared with us stirred memories of my mother. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us and know that your memories of her will be with you always. Lan
Dan,
Such a beautiful tribute to a life well lived. Thank you for sharing.
Dan, Thank you for sharing your beautiful tribute to a deeply meaningful, recognized and so appreciated life truly well lived. It gives me strength and some peace as I spend what I know are final days with my mother now.
Blessings to you and all of your family.
Tana Blackmore
Dan, It is an excellent moving tribute to the person who means the most in every mans life. We are wishing you and yours all the best
Dan, It is an excellent moving tribute to the person who means the most in every mans life. We are wishing you and yours all the best
Bob and Esther
What can we say? I feel what you feel as my Mom is pushing 90 and just quit driving herself to Florida a year or so ago. She has always been in my corner even when I left NJ for SD!! We help her now to get south and she gets around from after Thanksgiving til Mother Day!
I offer a toast to a great soul who I didn’t know in life but feel I know through your tribute. Ken
Dear Dan, Scott,and Michael,
We were very sad to hear of your mother’s passing, even though we never met her face to face. The image I have carried of her from your stories is of her as a singer, leaning on a piano, in my mind, both looking and sounding good. And that she was determined to retire while her voice was still good. I think of her when she sent Dreyfus out to end his days dozing on the ranch.
Even though Jillian’s time with her was short, it may have been vivid enough to last.
We feel so sad to learn this.
Bob and Barbara Bonner
Dan, I lost my mother when she was 58, and when I reached that age, I thought why did she have to die so young! I have never forgotten her, she pushed me to be the best!
I have always tried to be the best for her, but I sure do miss her. and I know
your memories of your mother will help you through the years.
Dan, I think when the elders leave us our own mortality becomes very real. We then become the elders. Or so I have found it, as all of my elders have now departed this life and I have bcome one of the elders within the family circle.
The warm memories of my parents live on and yours surely will also.
Jeanette Hayes
Dan, I think when the elders leave us our own mortality becomes very real. We then become the elders. Or so I have found it, as all of my elders have now departed this life and I have become one of the elders within the family circle.
The warm memories of my parents live on and yours surely will also.
Jeanette Hayes
What a moving and touching and beautiful portrait of your mother you drew ! My parents have gone and we, 6 children ranging from 70 to 57, feel the same as you no more “protection” above us, we become our parents now with our children, but parents are always alive so long as we keep talking about them with relatives and siblings, not one day without thinking about them.
My condoleances from France.
I’m truly sorry for your family’s loss. Your mother was a beautiful person with a memorable smile and fantastic voice. I’m sure many people remember her singing in church. I was glad to read the Eddie Mac Brown story and discover that she had an equally strong voice at the country club. My deepest sympathies go out to you and Scott and Mike.
Dan, what a lovely tribute to your mother. Thank you for sharing your wonderful memories.
A beautiful tribute Dan. I feel your pain and your love for your mom through your words. I’m sorry for your loss and thinking of you. Have to go get a tissue now.
Dan, what a wonderful, well-written tribute to your mother. She sounds like a classy lady. My condolences on your loss.
Dan, My deepest condolences to you and your family. I too am experiencing the same “I can’t catch my breath” sensation as your daughter, as I lost both my mother and father last month at separate times. Thank you for the wonderful tribute to your mother and sharing the feelings felt by your family. It has given me an opportunity to acknowledge the pain I feel in my heart and to help me let go of it a little more.
Dan, Kathy and I are sorry for your loss. Not log ago, my 93 year old Mom passed away and the call came, 3 in the morning. I remember driving into the home place the next day and thinking–in over 70 years, I had never walked into the house without Mom being there. I thought that I had prepared myself for that day–little did I know that you never can be prepared for the loss of your mother. Kathy and I will be thinking about you & Jill.
Our best to you
bill
What a beautiful tribute to your mother. Even though we are prepared for the eventuality of our parents’ deaths, we are still NEVER prepared for the hole their absence leaves. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings!
Thank you for sharing. Your wonderful mother helped raise a pretty darn good man, the world is surely a better place because of both of you. May you continue to find peace in her love and the strength of her memory. Sincerely, Jafer Patterson
Sincere thanks for all of your well wishes and your personal stories. We are all in this together and none of us are getting out alive. Thanks again. Dan
Dan, you have a gift in writing which you gave all of us, by sharing your thoughts about your mom. She was a class act with the most beautiful soul. She will be remembered and missed.
Oh gosh, Dan…. I am so late in reading this and feel so sad. I knew your mom and yes, she was indeed a special lady. She always welcomed all us kids into your home and made us all feel special through engagement and interest in our individual activities. her sense of humor was prevalent. I especially enjoyed the annual Christmas party and hayrides. She was very grounded and real, along with elegant and classy. AND WHAT A SINGER!! My most sincere condolences to Scott, You and Mike (the swimmer w/good ears…ha)
Dan – I did not know your mother passed away just last month, please accept my sincere and deep sympathy. I too had a strong mother that played a central role in my life and miss her every day. I feel her spirit around and within me often as I am sure you do. Again, my sincere and belated condolences.
Ethleen Iron Cloud-Two Dogs
Knife Chief Buffalo Nation Organization
Dan – I just found your website and want to tell you how sorry I am to learn about Inez. Loosing a mother is hard and your post was poignant and true. I still remember the Christmas open houses that lasted all day. It doesn’t matter how old we are, being parentless leaves us an orphan and that is new territory to chart. It sounds like you have charted well.
Mary
Mary
Dan, You do not know me….I have read your books, and still love Buffalo for the Broken Heart so much!
I too lost my beautiful, irreplaceable mother, this past February 10th….my mother also was strong, intelligent, fair, and wise beyond her years….she knew about the power of positive thinking, before Norman Vincent Peale did….at the end of the day, when my sisters and I were falling asleep, she would whisper in our ears that we were very intelligent, and good girls, she would say all kinds of positive things for our sub-conscience minds to grasp, and hold onto these positive messages; she would line my sisters and I up once a month to give us castor oil for colonic health…..way ahead of her time….we will always have these precious, sometimes funny memories of our loved ones…..hold on to these when you are missing her…these memories our mothers left were made by their love for their children…and They will never pass away.
My heartfelt sympathy for you and yours.