The hardest phone call

Much as we deny it, there's a little of our mother residing within all of us women. And my mother was the protective type who would, in her later years, try to make my relatives promise not to tell my brother or me when she fell and broke her hip, or fell and developed neuropathy, or had a small stroke. Didn't want to worry us. Of course, it should have occurred to her we'd be panicky if we couldn't reach her for the endless days she was not home, but in the hospital! Not exactly a good plan.

So, here I am with bad news and guess who I didn't want to tell. My son. The tradition almost continued. But Jeff convinced me to call Scott the same night we got the results. I wanted to wait. Make sure I was good and composed. But Jeff was right. I didn't want Scott to find out from anyone but me, and if I was calm and reassuring, then he would be at ease, knowing that I would be all right. And I was. And he was. And it went fine.

And while it was the hardest call that I had to make, I couldn't help but think that, while I miss her everyday since she's been gone, I'm glad I didn't have to call my mom.