Did you get a haircut?

Book the trip. Get it gift wrapped. Show up. Put your phone down.

My mom’s favorite store was Von Maur - a midwest department store that offered extra special perks like free shipping and free gift wrapping. When I went away to college (an easy 45 min drive north from my parents house), my mom made sure to send me a Von Maur care package weekly. And she sent care packages to the girls on my dorm floor as well as my friends in my sorority. Getting mail was a huge deal in college, especially packages from my mom that were wrapped in gift wrap and ribbon from Von Maur. This gift wrap became one of my mom’s signature moves - any new baby arrival, wedding shower, baby shower, birthday or “Get Well Soon” gift were wrapped in Von Maur’s signature white boxes (with the gold lettering), wrapped in beautiful paper and sealed with a satiny ribbon.

The gift cards were a small, gold folded card the size of an address label. Just enough room for a message - short and sweet. I even have one of those little gold gift cards from her proudly displayed in my living room that says “Congrats on completing PT!” from after I broke my arm.

Any choir concert or big swim meet, my mom was right there with a big bouquet of flowers. My Mom used to send me little messages in my school lunches too. Any chance she could celebrate me, she did. Isn’t that the exact definition of a mother’s love? Unconditional. It’s big and it’s loud and proud!

I tried to provide that same special love back at my mom. We always did special things for birthdays, Mother’s Day or during her breaks from school (she was a high school math teacher).

All of that specialness was turbo-boosted when she was diagnosed with cancer.

I remember sitting down at the kitchen table with my Mom after her diagnosis. After crying “How could this happen?!” and “Why me?!” for what seemed like forever, it was time for a reframe: “Mom, now that you KNOW your time on Earth is extremely limited, what do you want to do? Where do you want to travel? Who do you want to see? And what do you NEVER want to deal with ever again?”

I thought she’d say laundry, but her answer to that was “unload the dishwasher”. So from that day forward, my mom never unloaded the dishwasher again.

“Never unloading the dishwasher ever again” sounds like small potatoes when I tell you that my Mom got the chance to take her grandkids to Disney. Her and I also went to Europe… twice… in the 2 short years she lived after her diagnosis. She thought Italy would be a cool place to travel, so we booked a trip 3 months later for a tour of all the major cities in Italy!

She had always wanted to visit Versailles right outside Paris, France. We managed to take that trip only 2 months before she went on hospice.

I never planned on stepping up in this way for my Mom - it was built inside of me. My mom taught me HOW to survive her diagnosis from all of those years celebrating every little thing. She made me feel loved and special. All I knew was to make her feel loved and special in return.

My mom is now gone so that sense of unconditional love feels lost. Of course I have wonderful friends/family that make my birthday special and remember to check in after something important. But my mom would celebrate everything. Every little thing.

I remember my Mom texting us the day after my brother’s wedding “Look outside your rooms!” It was St. Nicholas day, and my Mom had made us little bags of treats. Not just any treats: my favorite nostalgic candy cigarettes. My boyfriend at the time got his favorite treats (twizzlers like my dad). She was in the thick of wedding prepping and organizing and STILL managed to make us feel special.

One of my friend’s friend’s friend was debuting his 1st playwright, Just Within Reach, this past weekend. As I sat in the audience, having drove up from Chicago, there were other people there from Hawaii and London who had flown in to support my friend as well. How magical! I haven’t seen or talked to this friend for years, but I still felt like it was really important to celebrate this moment for him!

The word celebrate means to express admiration. My mom’s care packages, bouquets of flowers and love lunch notes were a reminder that my Mom will always love me, no matter what. Not just on birthdays or special days. But all days.

My mom loves me ALL DAYS.

My Mom’s death anniversary is coming up. 2 years. My constant reminder of love and support is no longer here. And while a boyfriend/husband/partner is a close second to capturing this feeling, I don’t have one of those either.

My friends that DO have their mom or DO have a partner are treating them like their time is unlimited. And it makes me feel BIG feelings! They make me want to scream: YOUR PERSON COULD BE GONE TONIGHT! TOMORROW! NEXT TUESDAY!!!

CELEBRATE YOUR PERSON!

SEE YOUR PERSON!

You know the feeling when someone notices your haircut?! They SEE something is different about you. They are noticing you… and something is different.

NOTICE THEM. Notice that they’re working overtime and plan dinner. See that they finished the big job presentation/event and have a little treat for them. Maybe it’s a chocolate something. Maybe it’s lingerie. Notice that they’re struggling with this or that. Sit them down and talk it out. Listen. Or better yet, take them on a day trip somewhere. Get them out of that house. Make your person feel special. Whatever that means to you/them.

Notice that something is different and step up accordingly.

I saw my Mom. I noticed that she needed a getaway. I noticed that she needed me to accompany her to pick out her funeral flower arrangements (again). I saw that she needed to be alone. I saw that she needed to be surrounded. I saw that she wanted help. I saw that she wanted to do it alone. I saw her in a way that most people don’t. My dad sure didn’t.

I see some of my friends, and I don’t think some of their partners see them. And it breaks my heart. To go from those jittery feelings on your 1st date to years into marriage sitting across from each other at dinner buried in your phone. You’re more tuned into instagram than your partner.

I’m noticing you seem bored. Let’s do something different.

I’m noticing you seem distracted. Wanna talk about it?

I see you’re struggling. How about we order from your favorite takeout spot tonight?

I see you’re not talking to your best friend. Wanna talk about it?

See them. Notice them. Give a damn.

I can’t imagine losing any of that time with my mom. We had the “luxury of knowing”. Would I have emptied my savings for a trip to Italy with my mom under normal circumstances? Probably not. But knowing our time was extremely limited, we booked the flight.

If you knew you only had the rest of tonight with your person/partner…

If you knew you only had the next year…

If you knew you had only the next month…

If you knew you only had the first 1/2 of the month…

If you knew they would be gone forever tomorrow…

What would you do? How would you act? What would you ask? What would you tell?

I understand that it’s easy to get sucked into the hamster wheel of life/work/capitalism. If you had to narrow down what really matters to you, I imagine it would be your person/partner. Fucking act like it then. SEE THEM.

And see me. Please. My mom, my person will be gone 2 years in March. And I’m struggling. Big time. I know what it’s like to know the sand is falling fast in the hourglass. I thought you could see that. But then you got lost in your phone while we were at dinner. And you interrupted my story to show me a video. And you didn’t make reservations. And you acted like it was a normal day. A normal dinner. A normal hangout.

But it’s not, for me.

For me, it means hanging onto some shred of normalcy. See me. See that I need you to be with me. And not lost. Because if you don’t see me, I will “get lost”.

~Jen