Mom (3 page)

Valerie Jo Egzibher:
I learned many, many lessons from your mom. When she came over from Addis Ababa, we got to share things with her that she hadn’t seen or ever been exposed to before. I’ll never forget when we took her to see the singing Christmas tree—the tears were streaming down her face. I didn’t know what the tears were about until after we’d left, and on the way home she said, “I didn’t know God would let me live to see anything this beautiful!” That will live in my memory forever. She was just so touched by beauty of any kind.

Hagos Egzibher:
I loved when your mom came to visit, too. Those were the happiest times for me, because your mom didn’t understand a word my mom said, but they got along
so well
. They both loved cooking and they both liked children, so they just communicated by hand. They got everything they wanted done. They’d be laughing when we’d come home from work, and I’d say, “Did you have a good day?” With that beautiful smile your mother would say, “Oh, we just had a
wonderful
day today.” I loved that, I
loved
that. I miss that.

Valerie Jo:
I loved that, too. My mom would speak in English, and your mom would speak in Amharic, and then they’d laugh and throw their hands up. During that first visit, I said, “Mom, I don’t understand how this is working.” She said, “Oh, honey, I know Zodie’s telling me about when Hagos was a boy, and I’m telling her about all the funny things you did. We know we’re talking about how much we love our kids.” They came to love each other.

Sometimes it was frustrating for me, because I would want so much to explain to your mom why something had happened or to ask more about her life. As she stayed with us, she did develop English to a certain extent so we could have superficial conversations, but we couldn’t get into very many details.

We did fine in the kitchen, though. That’s where I learned the most Amharic, because she taught me how to cook wonderful food, and as we would cook she would identify the names of the different vegetables and so forth. She had a wonderful way of communicating with me. Like one time her neck hurt and I gave her a neck massage, and she picked up my hand and kissed it. Your mom brought tears to my eyes a lot, because she was so tender and so loving, and that really came through every day of her life.

I think part of what’s made our life together so beautiful is the influence that our moms have on us.

Hagos:
I feel the same way. We’ve been married for over twenty-two years. Mixing our two cultures together, we had our problems, but I think our moms helped us to get over that. I know your mom loved me because she always supported me when we had any issues, and my mom was always on your side. I remember if we argued about anything, my mom used to tell you, “He’s a stone head,” meaning that I’m a hardheaded person, and then she’d just laugh.

Valerie Jo:
I know—she would take my side. And if you and I would get upset and I’d say anything to my mom about it on the phone, she would always say, “He’s a wise man, honey. You need to listen to what he has to say.” She always would say that, and she was right. That was really a smart thing for them to do, wasn’t it? I mean, when I think about it, if you want to help keep things in balance, it’s better to take the side of the person that is not your blood relative.

But your mom loved everybody—she was so nonjudgmental about people. I mean, whoever walked through the door, your mom was there to greet them, and she was so warm and loving with everybody, no matter what walk of life they came from. She was so gracious.

Hagos:
You know, my mom was born and lived all her life in Ethiopia, and she thought she was probably going to die there. She was born in Addis Ababa and buried in Charlotte, North Carolina. To me that seems just unreal.

Jody Houston:
You were born prematurely. The doctor came into the recovery room, and he told me that your first twenty-four hours would be very touch and go. He didn’t know if you were going to make it. I couldn’t wait to get into the nursery to see you. You looked like a little bird that had fallen out of the nest.You were just so fragile and looked like you needed to grow your feathers.

When you were about three months old, they sent us to Texas Children’s Hospital in Houston. We were told that you had progeria and that it was a very grave situation, and to take you home and enjoy you—and that’s what I’ve done for thirty years. They said that they would love to see you when you were a year old. When you were eighteen months old, I decided I’d better call them. They couldn’t believe that you were still alive.

Barbara Cooper:
Progeria is a genetic, premature-aging disorder. It’s a rapid aging process: you skip puberty and everything else, and it’s a very short life expectancy. I presented at birth with all of the characteristics, which is extremely unusual. But I don’t fit all the categories—I’m tall and I don’t have heart problems—and so when I was eleven, they changed the diagnosis to an unknown progeroid syndrome. I love proving doctors wrong. It’s been a wild ride, but fun. I don’t ever remember being sad or fearful.

Jody:
You always woke up from your naps happy, and you always woke up in the morning happy. I would find myself just hoping that you’d wake up, because I knew that you were going to be happy and that we were going to have a good time.

When you were about three years old, your older sister and her friends were outside skating, and you wanted a pair of skates more than anything in the world. So we went over to Toys “R” Us, and we got you a pair of clip-on, hot pink roller skates, and we went home and put them on you. You started for the door, and I said, “No, you have to skate in the house. I don’t want you to get hurt.” So you learned to roller skate on deep shag carpet.You looked like a little roller-derby queen—you know, moving those arms and moving those legs, and you were content with that for a little while. And then one day you walked up to me and you put your hands on your hips, and you said, “You cannot keep me in this house forever!” That just opened up my eyes: I knew that you needed to go out there and skin your knees. So I said, “Well, that’s fine. You just go out there and skate, but don’t come in the house bleeding.”

It was a defining moment for me when I realized that I had to let you experience life. Can you remember any of those defining moments in your life?

Barbara:
Probably the most important was whenever I finally lost my vision. I miss the little things that people take for granted: just being able to glance and know what something is, like a Coke can or a gum wrapper, without having to feel for it. I’m extremely lucky that I was sighted for a long time, so I know what things look like. But I do miss rainbows and the reflections of clouds in the water and not being able to see the bobber when you go fishing.

Jody:
I love it when you go shopping with me and I try on clothes, and you tell me that it looks really great. I know that you really can’t see it, but it always makes me feel so good about myself. We talked the other day about how you remember your reflection in the mirror, and that you will always be young in your mind. I was so excited to hear that, because now I’ll be forever young in your eyes, too!

Can you think of some of your happiest times?

Barbara:
Yes, and it has to do with you. Out of all of my surgeries, you have always been there when I woke up.You’re the first person I’ve seen, and I knew no matter what, when I went to sleep I never had to worry because you were always going to be there holding my hand and talking to me when I woke up.

I’m very lucky to have you.You’re just the best mom in the world, and I could never repay you for that. You’ve always taught me that we can get through it—it may not be okay, but it gets better. And that’s one thing I think is definitely true: things may not be okay, but at least they’ll be better.

Jody:
I’ve always felt that when you inhale, I exhale. The closeness that we’ve had through all of this has been one of the most rewarding things in my life.

You call me so many times, and you’ll say, “Just remember to breathe.” That means so much, because I know that you know that it’s been a hard day.

Barbara:
And you know when I’m having a hard day, and it’s just,
Breathe.Take it minute by minute
.You may not be happy that minute but—Okay, let’s have a five-minute pity party, get it over with, and then let’s move on
.
Because it’s not going to do any good to keep dragging it out.

It’s easier to go through life being happy than sad. If you’re sad, everything is humdrum and boring. That doesn’t get you anywhere. There’s always someone out there that has it worse than you, so I’m like,
Well, at least I’m still moving around and enjoying things—let’s just see what fun we can have!

Jody:
You know, Barbie, children aren’t supposed to die before their parents do. And heaven forbid that you go before I do. But if you did, how would you want me to remember you?

Barbara:
That I did everything that I’ve ever wanted to do, and that you made that possible. I’ve enjoyed every moment with you—
every moment.
You’ve been my best friend.

Milly Guberman Kravetz:
You and I started as friends. I knew that you and my son David were going out together—you were in an off-and-on relationship. At the time, my husband was in the hospital—he became ill in September of ’75 and died in January of ’76. It was a hard time, needless to say. You came to visit when David was at the hospital, and then you’d also come sometimes to spend some time with me, and that’s something I’ve never, ever forgotten. I remember walking the corridor with you. I walked beside you, sort of with my arms around my body, and it occurred to me a good bit later that what I was really doing was quite literally holding myself together. But you were there beside me. Sometimes we’d be talking about David, and if it was a period when things were kind of rocky, I would say, “Well, Jaynie, if you really love him, have patience, and it will be good in the end. Relationships are complicated at best, and you have to be patient if you want something good to come of it.”

Jayne Guberman:
Right from the beginning, no matter what was going on with David, I think you and I always had a really special connection. It was probably the first time I had found a woman my mother’s age who was interested in the things which were really at the heart of my interests. Then, of course, we both shared a love for David. I remember saying to people that I think I probably fell in love with you before I fell in love with David.

Milly:
That’s a wonderful thing to hear. I think it was the fact that we could talk—I felt free to share with you. Do we want to get into how that has become complicated?

Jayne:
It’s kind of an unusual relationship—

Milly:
It gets complicated.You and David got married, and David is my son. And I married Nate, and you’re Nate’s daughter. So I guess we’re a good example of some kind of new math. [
laughs
]

Jayne:
You met my father when David and I became engaged. You had been widowed for four years at that point, and my father had been widowed for maybe a year and a half. I don’t really remember when I became aware that something was happening between the two of you.