Watch For Ice On Bridge
My Mom, Lois Akers Tune Mack, was born in 1917 and died in February 2012, seven months short of her 95th birthday. Her longevity came as something of a surprise to my siblings and me. Both of my grandmothers died at 45, my grandfathers passed in their 50’s, and only 3 of my parents’ 8 siblings lived past 65. Mom was 69 when Dad died in 1987, and while we didn’t really think about it, no one expected her to live another quarter of a century.
Mom was raised in Plainview, TX, youngest of four kids. She experienced great sadness early in life. She experienced the death of her Mother at age nine; her grandmother, who moved in after her Mother’s death, just two years later; and her Father at age 18. After my parents were married five years, they had their first child who only lived 4 months.
Things started looking up a couple of years later with the birth of my sister Ava. Ava lived the good life of an only child for nearly 6 years before I surprised them with my arrival. However, my surprise paled in comparison to the birth of the twins, Betty and Buddy, just 18 months later! 7-year-old Ava ended up with a large role over the next few years in helping raise the 3 B’s – Billy, Betty, and Buddy. Dad joked years later that he and Mom had raised their baby sitter and then had 3 kids. For some inexplicable reason, Ava chose never to have children of her own.
Mom was always somewhat frail. Having three small children in the early 50’s was not easy, even with Ava’s help. Mom was prone to depression, a condition complicated by a thyroid imbalance. It took many years for the doctors to figure out that her depression medication, lithium, would only work properly if the thyroid was properly regulated. In addition to her emotional ups and downs, she contracted hepatitis when we were still young. I remember her spending a lot of time in bed.
Everyone has insecurities that haunt him or her from time to time, and Mom was no exception. She probably thought she had hit the jackpot when she married my Father, a young Methodist preacher with an outgoing personality. However, the life of a preacher’s wife was full of unique challenges. She often felt inadequate as a pastor’s wife because she wasn’t musical like my father – and so many other preachers’ wives. Dad was so personable in a crowd that Mom often blended into the background. However, the people who chose to get to know her discovered a loving, caring person and a good friend. My Mom knew how to love, and in spite of her frailties, we kids saw in her a strength that helped her survive much heartache.
After Dad’s death, we wondered how she would cope. She coped by learning to live independently and start a new life. When Betty became pregnant with her 3rd child, Mom moved to the Dallas/Fort Worth area to help take care of the baby. She lived by herself for a while, and then moved to an assisted living facility.
Mom had no interest in dating again, but sometimes fate has a way of changing one’s plans. Mom’s “change of plans” was named Charlie. Charlie met Mom over an intense game of 42, and he was immediately hooked. Mom, however, took a bit of convincing. When she asked us for advice, we encouraged her to get to know him. She threw us a major curve early in the relationship when she told us, “Charlie has aids.” We were still trying to pick our jaws up off the ground when she continued, “They keep falling out in the yard, and he mows over them.” Oh, HEARING AIDS! Well, that’s different…
Mom became Mrs. Charlie Mack in 1992, and they enjoyed nearly 9 years together before his death in an automobile accident. Mom went back to assisted living, this time in Irving close to Betty. Betty had complicated our family years earlier by marrying a man with the same name as her twin brother – Buddy! We try to distinguish between them by referring to them as Budd-bro and Budd-‘n-law, but I still get confused. The important point here is that for the rest of Mom’s life, Betty, Budd-‘n-law, and their family were always there for her.
After Mom’s second broken hip, Betty and Budd-‘n-law graciously took her into their home, where she lived for the remainder of her life. Ava, Budd-bro, and I helped out when we could, but none of us lived close enough to be there more than occasionally. Betty deserves a medical certification of some kind because of her skill in managing Mom’s medications. There were many medicines, and remember the thyroid/lithium balance? Betty juggled that masterfully for years. When Ava, Budd-bro, or I were in charge of taking care of Mom on the few occasions when Betty had to be gone, she left us detailed instructions. I have no doubt that we owe much of Mom’s long life to the care and love she received from Betty and her family.
Dementia is a cruel disease. It robs a person of more than just memories. Mom battled this for her last decade. It was just one more area where medication, again monitored by Betty, was needed. My greatest fear was that someday Mom would not know her own children. That never happened! Mom still knew how to love, and she showed us that love up to the end. On one of my last visits, she was asleep in her chair in Betty’s living room when I arrived. I gently touched her leg to wake her, and when she saw me, her face instantly lit up with a big grin, and she hugged me. I will never forget that wonderful smile of recognition.
Mom had difficulty hearing, but her eyesight was surprisingly good. In the last few years of her life, I had the occasional opportunity to carry her from my brother’s Austin-area home to my home in SE Texas, or from my home to her home in Irving. By this time our conversations were relatively short and very circular, with much repetition. She started reading the road signs. Have you ever wondered what the most common sign is on a Texas highway? Watch For Ice On Bridge. I’m not sure if these little fold up signs ever get folded up, and in south Texas the warning is seldom relevant, but on my trips with Mom they seemed to be everywhere. She would read one, after another, after another. Before these trips, I was unaware of the existence of these signs. I soon discovered that virtually every piece of pavement that spans ANY distance not over solid ground has one. It makes sense because any time an icy breeze can blow under a section of roadway, that section will be among the first to accumulate ice. I still don’t know when labeling each of these vulnerable sections of road became common, but I digress.
As Mom read each sign, she looked at me and smiled as if to say, “I’m still looking out for you, son, because I love you.” I smiled back in appreciation.
Mom is gone now, but I see these signs everywhere and think of her.
Watch For Ice On Bridge. I love you, too, Mom.
enough
