I just returned from a trip to California to see my mother. I hadn't seen her for about six years, and time has been far from kind to her. She is suffering from progressive liver disease and may not have a great deal of time left. Her liver is quite enlarged, and she has also battled cancer and a stroke. It has been a hard life for her, and it is ending as difficult as it has almost always been. Mom has always been vibrant and energetic, but the old spark that she has always had seems to be fading fast at the age of 61. It's a sad thing for a son to see.

All of this has me reflecting on time and family. We go to school, go to work, raise our children and watch them move away. Sometimes our families remain close with the passage of time, and sometimes not. I deal with both, as my own family has never been particularly close, while my wife's family is much more so. Either way, a family is still a family, and the ties of blood endure over time.

My brother lives three doors down from Mom. He and his wife do a lot for her, and that seems to be taking its toll on them as well. Caring for the aged is a difficult and often thankless task. The whole time that I was there, Mom said many very unkind things about my brother and his wife, none of which I could find at all justified. I am certain that they often experience that same bitterness first-hand. My brother hasn't had the greatest of lives either, and having to take care of Mom while trying to keep his own life together has been very taxing on him. I applaud him for making the effort regardless of the personal cost. I really don't know if I would be up to the task myself.

Greg works as a bartender in the local Moose lodge. He is well-liked and enjoys his work. Being something of a showman, the job suits him pretty well. He has a great personality and it really comes through as he instantly makes friends out of strangers and welcomes all with open arms, providing they obey the rules of the lodge. However, this is the first sign of stabillity that I have observed in his life.

What held him back all along, though, is that he still focuses too closely on the past. I told him that if we focus on the past too much, we will stumble or fall every time we try to move forward. I don't know if he understood what I meant, but I know that I never really did much with my own life until I stopped looking back so much. After all, I had pretty much the same upbringing as he did, but the difference in what we have done since is stunning. Key among the differences between us is that I got away from Mom and the town in which I grew up, and he's still there.

Without question, not being there made a significant impact on my life. I worry about my brother because he never really seemed to cut the apron strings like I did, and when she is no longer with us, he won't be able to function. Maybe I'm underestimating him, but he always seemed to have much closer ties to Mom than I did, and he was there to find two of her husbands' bodies when they died. In a very real sense, his life has always been more intertwined with hers than mine, and so he will feel a real void when she's gone. By contrast, the distance between Mom and I is greater than the thousand miles apart that we live. In the end, perhaps this will be to my benefit, though I have trouble convincing myself of that.

When my mother finally passes, so too will a part of my life. Strange that it is a part to which I've never felt much of an attachment. Granted, my perception may be colored by years of experience with that facet of my heritage. Even so, I do not seem to allow myself to give this woman, who gave me life and sent me to school, the standing to which most mothers are entitled. To be fair, there are many reasons into which I will not go that I use to justify this sentiment, but she IS still my mother, and that has to stand for something. Doesn't it?