Dave's Mom, the Everymom

I miss Letterman at night when I used to take those last minutes of the day to settle in with someone with a bad attitude after I had spent all day being pleasant and positive and therapeutic. But I might miss Dave’s Mom more. Lately, oddly, I’ve been wondering about her, before I found out that she died. I didn’t know whether others had such an attachment to her that I would hear about it on the news, but clearly, I was not alone.

I know from close observation that old age can suck. Unless it doesn’t – for those rare Super-Agers who thrive, unchanged, into their 90s. I’m told that their brains don’t shrink and that their energy and health hold up. Whenever I encounter one, I always sidle over for a chat that gives me heart and hope. Whichever way it went for Dave’s Mom, whose real name was Dorothy Mengering, I hope she was still herself to the end – loving, patient, good-natured, and ready to take a chance. She seemed the mom we all should get.

One of the reasons I took to her is that she reminded me of my mom, whose last 10 years were dimmed by Alzheimer’s Disease. She too was quiet and unassuming, and ready to be tickled by life – I just wish I could remember her laugh better. I’m thinking she would have taken to Dorothy too. I don’t know how the afterlife thing works if it does, but it doesn’t hurt to imagine the two of them running into each other at a get-to-know-your new-neighbors meeting in the sky, and spending some of their now unlimited time hanging out. There would be laughter.

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