My mother hated the 4th of July. I don’t know exactly why she didn’t like it, other than she thought it was a dumb holiday. Ironic that she died 5 years ago today – July 4th – after a 3 year battle with brain cancer. Two years to the day after my mom died, we lost Oscar the Wondercat; who was, by the way, the best cat in the universe. Now I have good reason to dislike this day. Looking from another perspective, I appreciate that I will almost always have this day off from work, allowing time to reminisces and process feelings.
Five years is not a long time, in the grand scheme of life. It has been 1,826 times I have gone without the daily phone call from my mom. When you’ve made it through 35 years – 22 of those living at my parents home – with the following 13 years filled with those daily phone calls, you realize how lonely and empty life can be when you’ve lost one of your biggest fans.
Mom introduced me to several things that I am forever grateful for. The love of the arts. The importance of pursuing higher education and of being a lifelong learner. The willingness to try new things. The importance of helping people. Most important, she let me just be myself and others be themselves.
Karen Coughlin, my mother, was born in Mitchell, South Dakota in 1948. This is the home of the corn palace, where murals and designs are made of tons of crop art on an annual basis. There is a magical lure that draws a certain type of person to the plains. I must confess that I have a weakness of empty places. There is no describing the prairies - you need to stand in the middle of a field, waist high in grass, in hopes to get the faintest idea. They inspire feelings so unique, so distinct from anything else, so powerful, yet vague and indefinite, as if to defy description. Yet they invite the attempt to do so. Both of my parents are from the prairies. When I look out onto the vast emptiness where the sky touches the bluestem grasses and blazing stars, I know my heart will always be full of the memories from my mom.
