I want you to picture my mother, Carole Blum Moltz not as she most recently was but for the first 75 year of her life. For me, she was an amazing mother but also a grandmother, sister, spouse, teacher and friend.

Unfortunately, the last 7 years of her life were difficult when fibromyalgia, heart problems, anxiety and depression engulfed her life and transformed her literally into someone she herself could no longer recognize.

When I was a child, I was lucky enough that she was a stay at home mom. She saw her primary mission in life as her family. There was of course us going to school, having milk and cookies ready for us when we came home, helping with homework, typing term papers, and driving us everywhere. My mom always joked that she drove us so many places that she felt like she ran a taxi service. She taught me the value of hard work and not giving up…something I reminded her of during her own recent struggles.

My mom was always there for me and when it came to me vs. things that were happening in the world, she unconditionally supported and loved me. For example, If I had been wronged at school, she would march into the principal’s office to make it right. If a girlfriend broke up with me, it was their fault. As she so often quipped, “I never liked them anyways”.

My mother really only cared about a few things in her life… her children and her family. Even when she had deteriorated so much over the past year, in our almost daily calls, she still said she loved me and missed me….still signaling the her biggest concern was her children.

The last conversation I had with my mother was Dec 17th as my family was leaving for our 16 day trip to Vietnam and Cambodia. She was just coming out of the hospital for the last time, and said she promised she wouldn’t die until we came back so that her death wouldn’t interrupt our vacation. I see this as her last motherly act… too wait for me so I could enjoy my family trip.

I returned from SE Asia this past WED, and flew to see her in Boston on Thursday night. Even though she was not conscious, I told her about our trip and sat with her quietly that evening.

Less than 8 hours later, she peacefully passed away.

Mom, thanks for waiting for me so I could say goodbye. I know at the end, you were afraid to die because you were unsure what you believed comes next.

I want you to remember the song you used to sing to me when I was little… Doris Days “Que Sera, Sera… what will be will be.” ….

Mom, I don’t know what happens now, but I know that your motherly spirit is now released from your deteriorating body that has held you back for so many years.

Oh, one more thing… when you finally find dad again, please go easy on him. I love you.