My mother’s last words as she lay dying at age 92 were (this is the truth), “what I’d really like is a glass of champagne”.
That made me smile! Thank you.
–Jonathan
That is awesome!
+1 from me. Really sweet. And I hope she got that champagne! 
Clever mom, she stole my own last words line. Hope I have a chance to get it out. 
Blessed my mom is doing so well too. Today is my 50th and she whipped my arse in golf. She’s 75 and made the turn at 39 this morning.
She isn’t a Berserker so to speak, but she loves when I open Spätlesen.
Your post inspired me to get my Mom and Dad a bottle of 1939 Massandra. Thank you.
Those are fine last words. My mom will be 88 this year, and we’re blessed by her health, active lifestyle and acute mind. She traveled to Israel, Jordan, Germany, New York, New Hampshire, more last year. She misses dad, but stays active and youthful with a fierce water aerobics class, Bridge and Canasta, and a wide network of friends. Activity, family and friends are the key to a long healthy life.
Cheers, and Happy Birthday to Miran’s mom.
Warren
Well…
As it turns out, you never know what life has in store for you.
Not long time after I wrote my original post about celebrating my mother’s 75th birthday and urging you all out there who still have your mum in your life to make the most of it while she’s still here, suddenly, her friends contacted me, allerting me to quickly check up on my mother because she sounded very strange when talking on the phone. Indeed something seemed to have happened. We rushed her to the hospital emergency with symptoms resembling a stroke but when doctors bascially went through the whole array of tests, they couldn’t find anything except noticing the obvious fact that she was not feeling well. Without knowing the cause of her illness she was moved to the neurology department of the hospital for further tests and while staying there she got worse and worse, without the doctors having a clue what was wrong with her. I’ve spent the last weeks visiting her every day immediately after work and I must admit that it’s an awful and utterly heartbreaking feeling to walk those steps towards her room, not knowing if I would find her still lying there in an almost coma-like state or just be met by an empty bed and a doctor requesting a talk with me… Really heartbreaking indeed. I envy many of you out there who have large families who can support each other but for me, my mum is all I have.
After weeks of every conceivable test, without finding a clue to her illness, she was finally released from hospital. Still affected but at least fit enough to come home. As many have pointed out, the hospital environment isn’t the most optimal in which to recover if there is another option. Now she’s been at home for some days and at least there are small signs of a slow recovery. She’s even had a sip of something that binds us all together here, fermented grape juice. In this case sip of wine from her favourite winemaker in the world, a Scheurebe Kabinett from Weingut Keller.
My intention with this post is not to burden you with the misfortunes of my petty life, but to remind you once again that if you have the fortune to still have your mum in your life, make every day you get to see her count and enjoy your time together while she is still here. And if you love her, tell her here and now, not to a headstone with her picture when she is gone. As my grandfather once said when he was still alive - "If you wish to give me something good to drink (he liked whisky) and something good to eat, or tell me something, say it here and now and give it to me while I’m alive - and skip the flowers after I’m gone because they will do me no good." Same sentiment.
My mother is the best mother in the world, to me. As I’m sure you feel about yours. Take the chance while there’s still time. Open and share a grand bottle of wine with your mum. No one knows what tomorrow will bring.
Thanks for listening.
Best wishes!
Not petty by any means. The stuff of life. The sweet and the bitter. Take care of yourself and best wishes.
Not petty at all, glad you have the courage to share with us, Miran. Our family was hit with a thunderbolt too last fall, with my mom (a few, but not many, of the BBers know about the circumstances). We’re doing the same thing and following the same course you have laid out here. We are so thankful she continues to have her full faculties and still does what she can–cooking, gardening, etc.
I will say this. “I wish I had” does not start any sentence involving my relationship with my folks. In fact, dad is accompanying me this weekend to Vegas to spend time with my friends Jay and Bernie and have some fun. It will be good for both of us.
Miran, my best wishes to you and you mom. I know how hard it is. I’m glad you were able to celebrate her 75th with her.
good luck to her. And you.