WhatGoesAroundComesAround_DavisRob

A Story About Mildred
Mildred was my mother. She died from lung cancer, the result of years
of at least one pack a day of Chesterfield cigarettes. She had stopped
the smoking some years before but the disease had apparently already
taken root by then.
Not that she wasn’t ready to go. She often decried what she found to be
an unfulfilling existence without the presence of her beloved husband of
more than forty years. He had been gone for several, also the victim of
cancer. In his case, it was brought about, I am convinced, by his prolific
pipe smoking. It may have had its charm, but it was ultimately deadly.
He was gone way before it was necessary or natural.
They were, in their ways, a great couple. Sure, they went through their
wars with each other, but they hung in, raised three children and loved
each other like crazy. After he was gone and my mother moved, first
closer to me and then nearer to my sister, his presence was always
palpable in the apartments she occupied.
I’d walk in and say, “Hi Dad.”
She’d say, “I feel him too. He’s always here.”
We’d laugh. “Just can’t escape him, huh,” I’d joke.
“Don’t want to. Never did. Miss him so,” she’d sigh.
“Okay, okay, enough of that,” I’d recover. “I’m here now. Let’s play
cards!”
She’d smile, “Yes darling, I’m so glad you’re here. What game?”
One of the many things that impressed me about my mother was the way
she pulled together their financial situation late in their lives. They had