Front Porch: Funny conversations with Mom help lighten a heavy heart

Sometimes the things my mom says aren’t funny.

She turned 93 last week and she’s feeling worn out in every way.

“I’m tired. So tired,” she said recently. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

So, I gathered her in my arms.

“I know, Mom. I’ll miss you.”

That’s why I’m glad I’ve been tracking our funny conversations under the hashtag #thingsmymomsays. When my heart is heavy, I can revisit countless memories that make me smile. Here’s another collection of classic Mom moments.

January 2013: Mom had them rolling in the aisles at Bible study with her response to the question, “What do you think Adam and Eve were doing in the Garden of Eden?”

Someone said, “I’m sure they were busy working all day.”

Mom replied, “Well, I know Eve wasn’t doing laundry!”

February 2013: A rapidly racing heartbeat resulted in a short hospital stay for Mom.

She’s happy to be home. She said they released her because she stopped “ad-libbing.” (Pretty sure she meant she meant A-fibbing).

December 2015: Mom is having trouble tracking her new medical regime and appointments.

I tried to reassure her. “It’s good exercise for your mind.”

She remained unconvinced.

“It’s hard to exercise your mind when you’ve lost it!”

February 2015: Knowing how much I’m dreading getting my picture taken for an article about my book “War Bonds Love Stories from the Greatest Generation,” Mom offered this gem: “Just close your eyes and pretend you’re someplace else, honey.”

October 2017: A mother’s love is enduring – especially mine. Yesterday, she hugged me goodbye. “I love you to pieces, and then I love each one of those pieces!” she said.

February 2018: Survived a pop quiz from Mom.

“Do you know how old I am?”

“86,” I replied.

“You got that right,” she said. “But I have decided I am simply a woman. I am not an OLD woman, and I’m certainly not an old lady!”

November 2018: “So, you had smothered chicken and red potatoes for lunch,” I said to Mom.

“Yes,” she replied. “I told the server I thought it was very mean of them to smother that poor chicken.”

January 2019: I asked Mom if they had a special New Year’s Eve celebration at her retirement home. “Oh yes!” she said. “We celebrated at noon, though.”

February 2019: While discussing her upcoming hair appointment, Mom said she’s considering a permanent. “But I don’t know why they call it that because obviously they’re not!”

March 2019: “What are you up to today?” I asked Mom.

“Oh, I’m just an antique watching my road show.”

November 2019: “Hi Shirley,” a lady says to Mom in the lobby of her retirement home.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, she knows you.”

“Yeah. I’m infamous around here,” she said.

November 2019: Mothers never stop trying to feed their kids. As I took Mom to the dining room for lunch, she stopped to rummage inside her purse.

“Want some peanut butter?” she asked, pulling out two small containers.

February 2020: I asked Mom how her visit with the cardiologist went.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He just asked me a lot of questions. I think he wants to make sure I still have a brain.”

“I think that’s your psychiatrist,” I said.

“No, my head doctor knows I have a brain,” she replied.

January 2021: I told Mom I met an accordion player this week. I reminded her we used to have an accordion when I was a kid, but neither of us remembers what happened to it.

“We tried piano lessons for Shelley (my sister),” Mom said. “But they didn’t take.”

“Probably because we didn’t have a piano,” I said.

“There’s a guy that came out here and played the guitar in the courtyard,” she said. “I told everyone David (my brother) plays and sings so much better. Plus, he’d tell funny stories.”

“Probably about you,” I said.

She was quiet for a minute.

“Maybe he should stick to singing.”

August 2021: I told Mom that smoked ham was on tonight’s dinner menu.

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke,” she said.

November 2023: Today, Mom and I talked about her facility’s disaster plan. She lives on the second floor.

“I guess I’ll have to go out the window,” she said.

“You can’t go down a ladder. You’re 92!”

“Oh, I’ll jump into that thing the firemen hold out,” she said “Then I’ll bounce right back up, and down and up again.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t use a trampoline!”

“Well, they should,” she said. “It would be a lot more fun.”

I keep these memories close because last week, Mom took my hand and looked into my eyes. “I’m not going to be here much longer,” she said.

I know that, and it makes these moments even sweeter.

Cindy Hval can be reached at dchval@juno.com. Hval is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories from the Greatest Generation” (Casemate Publishers, 2015) available at Auntie’s Bookstore and bookstores nationwide.