What Size Underwear Do You Wear?
Posted: Friday, May 02, 2008
by Judi Lake
Judi Lake Advertising
“Her grave’s not even cold and he’s already dating!"
“That’s terrible!"
“Terrible? It is incorrigible! She was such a good woman — he should show more respect ! At least one year mourning…Judi, what do you think?"
Distracted, I listlessly reply, “Huh?"
“Judi! John ! He already has a girlfriend !"
“What?"
“You want to know about John and I want to know about your underwear. That’s fair, isn’t it?"
“That’s insane! You’re insane !"
“My point exactly. In the midst of your “gossip fest" I suppose none of you have thought that perhaps he’s already mourned his loss years ago as he faithfully nursed his dying wife…."
Silence.
I didn’t expect any response, not really. I suspect it’s easier to judge others than it is to understand them. Judging leads to “good conversation" whereas understanding someone does not.
After all…
…what better conversation is there for a girl’s luncheon than to psychoanalyze a brand new widower and his girlfriend?
Sensing the discomfort my comments have caused, I politely excuse myself and exit towards the door.
Ironically, as I search my purse for the car keys, I happen upon my own reminder of loss. Almost robotically, I grab hold of the empty “White Shoulders" perfume bottle buried deep within my pocketbook and slowly inhale its familiar scent. Lost in the moment, I am frozen in time as I breathe in “my mommy scent."
***
“Did you see all of the presents I got?"
“Yes and you deserve all of them!"
“You think?"
“I know — you are my mamma and I love you with all of my heart!"
I hug her tightly and gleefully persuade her to open the rest of her presents. My mother, a true giver, rapidly unwraps the remaining presents with the enthusiasm of a little girl. Finally, she spies a small, beautifully wrapped package and is befuddled.
“What —“
“Mom, just open it, will you!"
“Okay, okay."
Giggling, her sparkling eyes begin to tear as the paper is slowly torn off the gift. Without a word, we warmly embrace each other and I am enclosed within the safest arms I have ever known.
Sobbing, she lovingly scolds me for spending too much money. Lovingly, I protest as I assure her she’s worth so much more.
From that day forward, my mom was never without her favorite perfume ever again.
***
I force myself back into reality and slide onto the drivers seat. Adjusting the rear view mirror, I check my reflection and notice the mascara running down my face. Ten years later and I still miss her. She was my “mommy"; my confidante; my best friend and my heartbeat.
Through my own experience of motherhood, I have learned the selfishness of a child and realize how spoiled I was. I demanded and expected yet depended on my mother for everything. I knew of no stronger bond until I gave birth to my own daughter.
***
“Mamma, you sound so weak, are you alright?"
“I’m just a little tired, Judi, I’ll be alright."
“Wait for me, I’m coming over — don’t go anywhere, okay ?"
“Judi, I’m fine, really. The ride from your house to mine is too long; stay with your husband and enjoy the beautiful day."
Two hours later, I am in my mother’s house. Although we speak daily, I am no longer able to see her as often and am shocked at the skeletal image resting in my mother’s chair. The last time I saw my mom was one month ago when I took her to Broadway. We had a grand time and she looked beautiful. Four short weeks later, I don’t recognize her; her eyes have sunk in and she is very weak.
I quietly go into the kitchen to make her a cup of tea and call for an ambulance. Minutes later, I return and find my mother sound asleep. Something is terribly wrong and I am filled with enormous fear.
Trembling, I immediately reach for the phone and call my husband.
“Gary, it’s me. Something’s wrong with mom and I’m taking her to the hospital. I’m going to stay here until I find out what’s going on. Gary, I’m scared …"
Discerningly, Gary replies, “Judi, let me finish my last job and I’ll meet you at the hospital."
Neither my husband nor me leave my mother’s side while she is in the hospital. One week later, on March 7, 1998, at 12:15 pm, my mother leaves us to return home. On that day, a part of me dies as well… that is the day I lost my “mommy."
With the help of my loving husband, and in a “zombie-like" state, I painfully make all of her funeral arrangements. Although a difficult task, it seems appropriate that I be the one deemed to handle her burial.
After the funeral, everyone gathers at my mother’s home for food and emotional support. Amidst the crowd, I search for my girlfriend, Mary Ellen, and strongly grab her arm.
“You okay?"
“Yeah, but I gotta get outa here; I feel as though I’m suffocating. I need you to come with me."
Quietly, we slip out without being noticed and drive to the beach in silence.
***
Six months later, while in the mall with my mother’s best friend, Rita, an acquaintance stops us to chat.
“I’m so sorry about your mother, Judi, she was a fine woman. A good, Christian woman for sure!"
Somberly, I reply, “Thank you, Olga."
Arrogantly, she coyly adds, “For an only daughter, it was a bit unusual that you left your own mother’s funeral gathering… after all she’s done for you, Judi Lynn !"
“I—“
Abruptly, Rita intercedes and asks, “Hey Olga, tell me, what size underwear do you wear?"
Astounded, Olga replies, “What? Have you lost your mind ?"
Curtly, while hugging me tightly, Rita responds, “No, Olga, I think you’ve lost yours!"
That evening, I privately reach for my mother’s bottle of “White Shoulders" and, while inhaling its scent, allow the pain from the depths of my soul to be released.
I close my eyes, envisioning my mamma’s loving face, and think, “No one can ever know how much I love and miss my mamma… no one but her ."
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More commentsSize 0 of course, Mrs. Judy Lynn -Ethel-Lake... ((hugs, smiles & love)) What a beautifuly testimony of love! You warmed my heart girlfriend. No one has the right to tell someone else how long or how to grieve. Brittany still carries a picture of her and her good friend that she lost to a car accident 5 years ago, I say-good for you Britt! Praying for those tough times and praying that they turn to laughter and smiles as you remember some of your finer moments together! Happy Mother's Day to you! Love, LHi Lucy! ... size 0, eh?... smile.... I agree with you; grieving is a personal thing and its process is different with everyone. Happy Mother's Day back atcha!
Sweet Judi~ This is WONDERFUL! Thank you for sharing your heart. It brought a huge grin to my face as I read...having also experienced the passing of my 'mommy' (yes, that's what I called her too!)...and it is those little moments, like the one you share with us here, that stay with us always. THESE are the moments that keep them alive in us. My sister always reminds me, 'no losses, Camille, only blessings.' And so it is. Thanks, darlin'est Judi. Hugs to you~ CamilleHi Camille! I'm sorry you've lost your "mommy" too -- I really don't know of any human love as strong or unconditional as the love between a child and their mother - It pains me to see so many young people "waring" with their parents; I may have been spoiled (just as my daughter is... ahum...) but when I buried her, I buried my mother with no regrets; just sadness. You are so right that the little moments are the ones that stay with us and keep them alive. Thanks for you sweet comments and a hug back atcha, Miss Camille! Happy Sunday!
Wonderfully written article, Judi. And I agree. There are many and varied ways to mourn the loss of a loved one and to try to anylize each individual case makes as much sence as worrying about a panty size. I won't tell mine and mourn my losses in my own way. Great article. I loved the way you 'talked' it out. SandraHi Sandra! I agree with your comments and actually am not the originator of the "panty question" -- my mom's friend Rita was while she was defending me and I began using that line myself simply because the insanity of it seemed to make sense to me - human nature tends to like to judge others yet no one really knows the inner feelings of anyone except the person and God. Thanks for commenting and Happy Sunday!
Judi, thank you for such a wonderful article. It touched my soul and made a very good point. Hope you don't mind if sometimes I use your and your friend's question. It seems so perfect. DianneHi Dianne! I am happy you were touched by my "rambling" (smile) -- I am not the originator of the "underwear question" but feel free to use it anytime; if people are so forward to step over personal boundaries then, hey, they deserve to be handled with nonsense. Thanks for commenting and Happy Sunday!
Beautiful tribute Judi. Until someone has suffered that kind of loss, they generally don't know what to say. Unfortunately, that doesn't always prevent them from speaking up. Great articleHi Steve! I personally think that, at times, silence is best but we all know that that isn't the case with many... As I've gotten older, I've come to believe that those who feel that they MUST state their opinions regardless of other peoples feelings are manipulative and controlling - Personally, I think if everyone reacted like myself, the world would be incredibly boring -- how wonderful it is that there are many different types of individuals and personalities! Thanks for commenting and I hope you're well! Happy Sunday!
What a wonderful, touching article, Judi! I lost my Mom in November of 1998 and still think of her often. With all the fond memories, she will still live on. Thanks for the article.Hi James -- so you lost your mom around the same time I lost mine; I'm sorry. of course we still think of them; how silly for people to think otherwise. I see my mother in myself and my daughter and so she lives on with many, many great memories and, yes, some not so great. We don't need to "prove" loyalities to anyone; it really doesn't matter. Thanks for commenting and hope you've been doing well! Happy Sunday!
Judi, I'm in agreement with previous compliments about a well-written article. You have such a gift, my dear friend! You think nothing of it but one can recognize it as one is being carried along and swept emotionally into what you are writing. It's like being there. Thank you for sharing this gift with us. I'm also in agreement about grief and loss. It's ultra personal and we can learn from loss if we so choose. Happy Mother's Day to you if I don't get to say it later. *smiling* warm hug...Avis Ward, you humble me; I've never considered myself a writer but I do think a lot and guess it needs to come out some way or another... Thanks for your sweet comments and since we're settling in Charleston, I sincerely hope you make the trip you've always wanted so I can meet you! Tons of warm hugs your way!Judi, I'm glad I found you. I read your article twice. I was intrigued that you knew the exact date, time and hour when your Mom passed. As I read your story, I rehearsed March 22, 2004 at 11:39 pm the exact time that I lost my beloved Father. It truly is a personal experience with all of us having to deal with our lose in our own way. Now if you will excuse me, although I spoke with my Mom on the phone just yesterday for over an hour I think I'll telephone her again right now, just to ask what's up? Great Article KimberlyThank you, Kimberly - I was touched by your kind comments. I hope your phone call with your mom was delightful! God bless you
I read this last week and have been thinking about it ever since. It's such a nice reminder not to judge, appreciate what you have and have had and thank God for good friends who can come up with lines like "What size underwear do you wear?" when it really fits the occasion perfectly. Thanks again, Judy. I will say it once again: You are amazing.Mary, since I think that you're amazing, what do we do? ... smile - your comments humble - thanks for commenting and hope you had a great mother's day!
My boxers are size 34, and this is a brilliant article.34? mmm... when I'm low on laundry, may I borrow a few pairs for my hubby? (smile)... thanks for commenting, Scot!
HI Judi,Your article brought tears to my eyes as I read it. I remember losing my dad. He came into my life when I was 6 months old. He died when I was 25. It took me nearly 10 years to be able to drive by his final resting place with out tears in my eyes. But, now I can drive by and remember with a smile on my face, all of those happy memories of my Dad.I love your response to peoples rude comments, "what size underwear do you wear"? It's a shame the way people judge one another, because we are human and our judgements can be very wrong of one another.
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