Last Saturday was the third anniversary of my mom's death. I marked it helping my youngest son Patrick and his partner move up the street in Vancouver. Aside from thinking how much Mom would have loved Rachel, I spent most of the day wishing Mom could have been around to meet her and see the wonderful changes in her happy grandson.
My mother was never the gushy sort. She was, for all her working career, a waitress - the old-fashioned kind who could remember whether you took cream in your coffee, how much butter you wanted on your toast and which daily soup special was your favourite - a far cry from today's chirpy, "Hi, guys, my name is Sonja and I'll be your server." My mother would no more have crouched down at the side of your table than she would have come to work naked.
And while many would say she passed on her independent, hard-working attitude to most of her nine children, she also passed on another of her ingrained habits - smoking. At one time or another, each of my brothers and sisters, with the exception of one, all smoked. Now most of us have quit, although only one of us had the same impetus that Mom did - heart disease.
Regardless of what anyone will tell you, it's a lot easier to start smoking than it is to quit. Whether you start because you're a skinny little rat like I was who wants to look older or because all your friends smoke and you want to be cool, it's really easy to light that first cigarette. And once the nausea, light-headedness and coughing cease, you grow to like the nice little buzz nicotine imparts. And pretty soon what began as a curiosity becomes a full-fledged way of life.
My mom, up until the day her heart landed her in Penticton hospital, was quick to tell anyone who remarked on her smoking to mind his or her own business. "Everyone has to die from something. I might as well go doing something I like," she said more than once.
The reality was heart disease hurt and so did the lung cancer that ultimately claimed her life. And while both those diseases were savage, the one that hurt the most was the stroke that completely changed her life in the summer of 2001.
Overnight she went from being a feisty woman to a confused patient who couldn't find the bathroom in her own house.
Yes, it's legal to smoke, and yes, it's addictive, and yes, it's a horror to quit. But if you need a reason to stop smoking, close your eyes and imagine everyone you love gathered around your hospital bed listening to you rasp your life away. Someday when my grandson meets the love of his life, I want to be there to help him move. I hope I have quit in time.
