My mom was the best person I knew. So obviously there have been a lot of tears shed for her. But when my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer she would constantly say "I'd rather you laugh at me than cry for me." But when I've tried to remember my mom this past week the hardest thing has been trying to remember the good times. But after talking to friends and family I sat down and tried to think of my favorite memories of my mom. Because that's what she would have wanted us to do.

Now, to say my mother loved me would be a gross understatement. She suffered from what you might refer to as IMS, "Italian mother syndrome."
She'd always say:
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing ma."
 "What's bothering you?"
"Ma, please don't worry. Nothings the matter. Why does something always have to be the matter?"
"John, please, I'm your mother. I worry about you."
"Ma, stop."
"You'll understand when you have a child."

Aside from worrying about my well-being, one complication that also came with this disease is that my mother spoiled me incessantly. One of my first Christmas memories was waking up on Christmas morning to a living room full of presents. Literally, full. Under the tree, covering every square inch of the living room floor, the couches even a bike on the porch. My mother was the type of person who Christmas shopped all year round and on this particular Christmas Eve, she counted 99 presents for me. At that point she did what any sufferer of Italian mother syndrome would do, she bought a one hundredth present for me.

One of the more familiar signs of IMS is that you display photos of your baby boy for everyone to see. A very large portion of my mother's Facebook was a chronology of the things I did to make my mom most proud. You know things like my college graduation, my engagement, matching my socks, tying my shoes. My mother is probably up in Heaven right now telling everyone what a great job I'm doing right now.

Italian mothers do not cope well with change, so my college years were not easy times for my mom. The drop off was not easy, leaving me behind as Mom sobbed into tissues, her teary blue eyes peering out the passenger side window looking back at me as Dad pulled the truck out of the dorm parking lot to make the long and agonizing 15 minute drive back to Rockaway from Morristown.

But in all honesty, when I decided to study abroad in England for 15 weeks my mom was surprisingly supportive and excited for me. She actually pushed me to do so. Months before my flight she gave me tips and told me stories of her travels to France when she was 18. Weeks before my flight she took me shopping for my first luggage set and days before my flight she ironed my clothes. The morning of my flight mom, dad and I had lunch and then we headed to the airport. Mom was surprisingly calm but as we got closer to Newark she grew more anxious. We checked my bags and she began to pace. We sat down for coffee and she started taking pictures. I met some soon to be classmates who were on my flight and her eyes began to water. She snapped more pictures, now the tears fell. We hugged good bye and sobbed. Then she snapped more pictures. I walked through TSA security and my mom snapped more pictures, and followed me.
"Ma'am you can't be here"
More pictures.
"Ma'am do you have a passport?"
Wiping tears. With tunnel vision she remained fixated on her baby boy. Pictures.
"Ma'am! Excuse me!"
My father had to pry her away before she would be detained by TSA. 
As I looked back one of the girls I was with said, "Is she going to be okay?"
I said, "Don't worry this kind of thing happens all the time."

That was my mom.

Soon after I got back from England she was diagnosed with cancer. And soon after that she lost her job. She had caught a terrible break. But she was determined to overcome it. And soon she caught a great break. After losing her job at a law office she decided she wanted to avoid that line of work and work at a school, be around kids. She had wanted to be an elementary school teacher when she was young so maybe this could be her way of fulfilling an old dream. But she got a call from a guy, an attorney. And for some reason she decided to take the interview. She got home from meeting him, and I asked how it went. She gave me all the details. Specifically that this job would require her to be on call 7 days a week. But would pay far better than her last job. And that although her boss was an attorney she would also have to act as a personal assistant seeing to a handful of personal tasks for his family and so on. She said the guy was very direct. I said "Mom that sounds like a lot of work, are you going to be able to handle this, you're still recovering from surgery and chemo is this what you want to do?" She said "I think so. He seems like he'd be a good boss. And the way he talks about his employees, it seems like he expects a lot from his team but I think he really appreciates them all. I like the idea of being a part of a team." Mom took the job at Pearlman and Miranda and I believe it changed her life. At dinner time my father and I would have to put a time limit on how long we were allowed to talk about work because it was all she wanted to talk about. My mom loved this job. She was proud of it and she treasured the friends she had there.

When mom got sick again, she feared she might lose her job again. Instead they found ways to make it work. The whole team made it work. On top of that they'd visit her in the hospital, at home. They'd make sure she could do her work from the comfort of her couch. Even go to treatments with her. When she was ready, she returned to the office.

Then third time it came around, she got really sick. She couldn't seem to shake the complications from this one. She was always tired and had trouble driving. After treatments she would need days to recover. When the team found out how difficult it was they hired her a driver to take her to and from work when she was up to it, and to all of her doctors’ appointments. I can't tell you how much my father and I appreciated how they treated my mother. From this point on, too, we were okay with her rambling on about work. 

My point of sharing this with you all is that mom caught an awful break with cancer, thinking about it makes me angry and sick to my stomach. I still can't understand it. Why her?

But the silver lining for me can be summed up when I think about my mom a week ago on Monday, just hours after she my dad and I made the hardest decision- to stop fighting the cancer. She had been moved to comfort care. We were wearing these plastic gowns and masks because they weren’t sure if the rash she had was contagious. And within minutes there were people waiting to see her. Family. Friends. And soon there were so many they couldn't fit into the room. All of them in gowns and masks. The head nurse said she’d never seen so many visitors for a single patient. Another nurse yelled at an assistant that the garbage can in the hallway was overflowing with gowns and masks and it needed to be emptied. The cabinet outside her room was out of gowns and we had to take them from other patients down the hall. That's a definitive testament to the type of person my mom was. So many people loved my mom. And if love could have cured her, it wouldn't have been a fair fight for cancer. She'd have been cured.

Now that day, my mom was scared, she had said it. After fighting and hoping to get better she knew she was going to die soon. Surrounding her were her friends and family in blue gowns, coming to grips with the same realization. We were emptying tissue boxes crying. But my mom was smiling. In true character of my mom she said "Okay it’s too sad in here we need to laugh." She started telling stories. We were all roaring in laughter. The nurses, like RAs in a dorm were popping in, giving subtle hints for us to keep it down. My mom had a ball. That night, when everyone had left I said to my mom, "Today was a good day, huh?" She said something that resonates with me still, "Every day is a good day."

So when you're feeling sorry for her today, or tomorrow or whenever, please don't cry for her, share your favorite memories of her instead. Laugh at her, don't cry for her- because that's what she would have wanted.