Making Memories with My Mamasita

By Eileen Spatz

I call her Mamasita. In fact, every time my mom answers my phone calls I say, in a singsong voice, “Hello Mamaseeeta” which is always followed by her jolly giggle. It’s just our thing, this silly mother-daughter routine on the phone.

Oh sure, my mother and I have had our ups and downs over the years. It has not always been a comfortable relationship, which may be putting it mildly. In many ways, my mom and I are like oil and water. But, oh, how many are the ways that we are so very similar. In a wonderful and strange way, this past year has opened my eyes to just how similar we really are.

In December 2019 we were informed that my mom had bladder cancer. This was a terrible shock to our family. She subsequently had surgery to remove multiple tumors from the bladder, and we were to meet with the doctor in January 2020 to discuss the findings.

As I drove from Orange County to this appointment in Palm Springs I prayed the rosary, fervently asking for special graces for my mom. I was a little surprised at how intensely I prayed for her. When we sat in the doctor’s office, I felt myself holding my breath and clutching her arm as he sat down to give us his report.

To our relief, her cancer was low grade and noninvasive, which was excellent news, and he would continue to monitor it. I had no idea how much I needed to hear this positive news, as I’d tried to gear up for the worst. I hugged my mother and cried. Thank you, Jesus, for this gift of more time.

After the doctor’s appointment we went to get some lunch at a local deli. As we began to make our way across the parking lot to the restaurant, my mom reached out to hold my hand. We held hands! This was surely new and different territory for us. A lump grew in my throat as I realized how deeply I loved her.

I grew to appreciate my Mamasita more and more through the year from hell, 2020. We routinely would chat on the phone once a week, but loved to send almost daily messages via Facebook messenger. She began to sign off with, “You are my beautiful little girl and I love you so much.” This was so tender and sweet that it just melted me—her sixty-something little girl.

Even though our regular visits were whittled way down last year, due to my fear of inadvertently passing the virus on to her and her husband, they were always highlighted by my dog, Rocky, coming along for the rides to Palm Springs. She adored Rocky, and probably looked forward to seeing him more than me! Sadly, in July we had to say goodbye to that sweet doggie, which broke all our hearts, especially hers. She asks me every time I see her or talk with her on the phone when I will get another boxer.

In 2021 my mom has experienced some setbacks. Now at 88 years of age, anything that sends you to the hospital can be very worrisome, especially during the peak of the pandemic. She spent a week in the hospital, and was just wasting away. When I picked her up at discharge, I barely recognized her. This really frightened me. I was not ready to lose my mother.

You see, over the last year I developed a newfound appreciation for my mom. I guess that is classic human nature, to take someone for granted until you realize you might lose them. I have also realized the role she played in who I am, in what makes me… me. Her love of music (she was a musical theater major in college) meant that I was raised on a constant diet of 60s show tunes, Johnny Mathis, bossa nova, and other greats from the era. Music was playing in our modest little home all the time, and it took up permanent residence in my own heart. I grew up to love singing, dancing, and performing, too. Fifteen years ago when I got an iPod I even built a large playlist of all the tunes that my mother loved when I was growing up, even including Englebert Humperdink and Sammy Davis Jr., and sing along with gusto. Hey, I am not ashamed to admit that I have eclectic tastes in music.

I also learned something so valuable over the past year—how to forgive. Oh, how freeing it is to let go of all that nasty resentment and anger! So what if my childhood was, shall we say, messy? So what if she disappointed me at times? So what if she is flawed? Newsflash—so am I! I am a flawed mother too, just ask my kids. So, last year I decided to just let go of any negative feelings I had towards my mom, and what a burden was lifted from me because of that decision.

Six weeks ago things looked very, very bleak. My sis and I took turns keeping her company, and doing our best to encourage her to eat and do her physical therapy. Little by little she got stronger. Over the past six weeks, as my sister, her husband, and I slowly nursed her back to wellness, I have become keenly aware of how much my beautiful Mamasita means to me.

As part of the strategy to get her better, I decided to appeal to her passion for music. I began bringing my portable speaker with me and playing all those old standards and bossa nova that she loved so much when I was growing up. I turn off the TV and fill the house with the sounds of my childhood…and she just lights up.

One day, although still very weak, I talked her into going for a drive with me. There we were, her at my side wearing her pajamas, cruising around the gorgeous desert canyon with the sunroof open while listening to the local big band station… Frank Sinatra crooning away. I just soaked up this little twenty-minute car ride, just me and my beautiful Mamasita taking in so much sensory beauty together. I will never, ever forget the sweet memory made that day.

I am noticing how the more I am with my mom, the more I want to be around her. Because I work full-time, I am limited to weekends only, but now I find myself missing her during the weekdays. I think about her constantly. I wonder what she needs and wind up buying her new outfits and PJs online. I ponder recipes for the next weekend’s meals. Surprisingly, I even look forward to that two-hour drive to go see her each weekend, and I still pray my rosary en route.

Every week, seeing her getting stronger and stronger, I am more hopeful. She now books it around the place on her walker and powers through the PT exercises with ease. She eats three square meals a day, and even enjoys a little glass of wine with her hubby and me at cocktail hour. Yes, I am hopeful.

Only God knows how long I will have my mother with me here on earth. I can only continue to pray that He gives us plenty of time together. I am so very grateful that He has given me the blessing of time to truly be a loving, doting daughter to my adorable Mamasita.