Memories of Betts

The events in my family fit awkwardly between bookends. One day we’re up and the next day we’re down. And so it is on May 12, one day following my birthday, that Mrs. Laz’s mother took her final breath. It also happened to be Mother’s Day that May 12 and Mrs. Laz was only hours from making the trip to San Diego to be with her mother when we got the call. Her death was not a total surprise but it’s always a kick in the stomach when it happens. Such is the finality my family has had to learn to live with.

My mother-in-law had called me to give me birthday well-wishes late in the day. I could tell she was struggling to speak and was very weak. I asked if she wanted to talk to her daughter but she said she was too tired. Mrs. Laz never got the chance to talk to her mother again, a point of frustration that lives with her still.

Mrs. Laz has taken to wondering aloud about the fairness of her mother passing away before she was able to say her final good-bye. I have always reasoned that her mother was so close to her that it would have been far too sad for her to say her final farewells. She was far too classy to put the two of them through a Terms Of Endearment moment. They really had nothing to settle between them and each had so much love and general fondness for the other that it almost seemed at times they were big sisters, not mother and daughter.

The boy and I were speaking today about the losses of his grandparents. He remembers less about my parents and Mrs. Laz’s father because he was only 12 when they died. But he was 20 when his grandmother died and they had one of those long, final conversations. She was definitely wanting a fix on what life held in store for him and asked him many questions about his future. According to him, she reveled in his plans and his hopes and dreams and she could actually feel comfort knowing he would be OK. I think that’s all parents and grandparents want to know before they pass. They want to know they have done everything within their power to ensure happy and productive lives for their loved ones.

It was also easy to see that she loved having a granddaughter that she could mold and bring up as she had her daughter. Mrs. Laz and Lazette even shared the same nickname of “Missy.” Lazette didn’t always follow the same path of her mother, but I know her grandmother had great plans for her, including the rather sumptuous irony that Lazette’s initials were E.R.A, a point that was often mentioned with glee.

She was one wonderful lady who endured many trials in her life with total dignity and elegance. She accepted my nutty ideas when she learned I was going to be joining the family and even tolerated my political views – at least those she could stomach. I was raised in La Jolla – a character flaw in her book and a source of teasing in mine – while she grew up on the rougher side of Chicago without much of a father around. She even accepted me arriving at her house for dinner with Alka Seltzer tablets in hand (yes, I really did that and she still let me marry her daughter).

Mrs. Laz’s bedroom was downstairs and her mother’s upstairs. When Mrs. Laz and I were first dating, and even in our first years of marriage, we would be engaged in a hot, passionate game of checkers or something. Her mom was quite curious about the lack of noise coming out of the downstairs bedroom so she would investigate from time to time. Since Mrs. Laz’s bedroom was directly below the stairwell, we could hear every step as her mother walked down. To avoid detection, her mother took each step with about five minutes wait in between to throw us off. It never worked as she never caught us playing “checkers.” My bet is she spent plenty of time devising the next method of catching us off guard. She was obviously just worried that her daughter would fall prey to this fast-talking kid who had his head in the sky and a box of gastro tablets in his pants pocket.

She battled cancer with every last remaining bit of strength and she died with the dignity that surrounded her life. She is our only parent that fought death into the 10th round hoping for a decision in her favor. But it’s difficult to beat the champ in a title fight and I think she knew when her time was coming. I think she knew when she didn’t speak to Mrs. Laz on the phone because, what do you tell your daughter and best friend at a time like that? I think she spared both of them a tragic scene at the end and left Mrs. Laz with the memories she will always preserve. I know Mrs. Laz has a giant hole in her heart where her mother used to reside. Hopefully she can fill it with the love her mother passed through her when she made her final stops before entering her lasting peace. In my mind, that’s a better gift than a difficult good-bye. Bettelu, may you rest in peace and be in our hearts forever.