Debby Does…

Barry Manilow sings a great song about New Year’s Eve. Being a Fanilow, I always turn to Barry in the big moments. This one is no different.

“Don’t look so sad,
It’s not so bad you know.
It’s just another night,
That’s all it is, it’s not the first,

It’s not the worst you know,
We’ve come through all the rest,
We’ll get through this.”

That’s always how I tried to view Labor Day Weekend. Well, through that lens, but with vodka, snacks, and repeated viewing of Kiera Knightley’s Pride and Prejudice.

For the majority of my life this weekend has meant two things: back to school and my mom’s birthday. Both of these events were a bit of a struggle, to say the least.

My mom was a firm believer that she should never have to go to school on her birthday, but sometimes, it happened, and she was salty! After she retired, and especially as dementia was taking over, she felt even more strongly that I shouldn’t go to school on her birthday. I went to great lengths to make the days surrounding her day as special as possible. From big parties to small Sanibel gatherings, her favorite treats, Broadway afternoons, moonlight swims, boat rides, and dedicated porch sitting, I always celebrated her beautiful existence because she was the very essence of mine.

As a kid, and while her parents were still alive, Judy’s birthdays usually meant fancy dinners at old school restaurants and a few special gifts. As time passed, we did fewer gifts and focused on time together. Still, my mom’s birthday held some sort of secret melancholy for her and many years she was downright miserable on September 1st.

This is my third September 1st without my mom and my first without the Labor Day Weekend School Panic. And, in true Judy fashion, there’s something deeply melancholy in me these days. I feel a little lost.

It’s probably important to mention that we have been displaced from our home for more than 3 months, on the road with two cranky dogs, and coming to the end of our senses of humor with the whole situation. That may be playing a big part in my feelings. I’m positive it is.

Still, I guess I will need to rewrite these days. This weekend no longer signifies the end of something or even the beginning of something. It’s just a weekend, with an extra day. Fall is starting to whisper in my ear and this one will look very different. The way I used to mark my days and pass my time has changed dramatically. Even where I am is new.

People say that teachers hate change and my mom truly did. Her world was based on routine, consistency, and order, but, at the same time, she loved to learn new things and try them. It made her an incredible parent and teacher. When we would go shopping for my clothes, she always let me try on something outrageous, even though we knew we weren’t buying it. Her philosophy was, “Well, as long as you’re taking your clothes off…”

Back to school shopping with my mom was one of the things I looked forward to most. It was a celebratory day in the midst of the August reality of school approaching. In high school, we spent the day at the King of Prussia Mall in Pennsylvania and, as an adult, it was Anthropolgie and our local Macy’s. Every dress I tried on I would say to her, “Would you want to learn from me?” That answer decided whether the dress was coming home with us.

Last September, I had my last “first” day of school. I had my picture taken and everything! I had on a very cute dress that my mom would have loved and marched into the room where I taught music for 25 years for the final months.

This September, I’m in a Massachusetts cottage, built more than 100 years ago, longing to go home to Bloomington.

My life has surprised me in so many ways.

I’m not quite sure how I got here, but I know my mom is watching. Her signs and signals are all around. The love that she shared with so many others comes back to me tenfold and reminds me that, while she may not be here physically, she is beside me spiritually. She is, as I said, woven into my very essence, beyond DNA.

Her end of summer melancholy is one of my threads, as well. The changing sunlight, sounds of roaring school buses, and the first crisp morning signal change. Like New Year’s Eve, it’s how I view that change that matters. Not the end, not the beginning, just the lucky continuation of life and love and the opportunity to decide what’s next.

Cheers to the final days of summer! May your fall be full of all the goodness you desire.

Happy Birthday, Judy. Your needle wove such a beautiful life for me.

If only she could have sewn on a button!