Dear Mom,

On Friday night I had the pleasure of meeting for the first time a real-life superhero. No, she hasn't ever won a gold medal, defended our country, or been written up in the newspaper.
"Oh God, Terence. When I was walking upstairs I started to realize how much I had to drink; I hope I didn't say anything stupid".

On the contrary, mom. That night, hearing you dish about your past: your
experiences as a young mother and wife, your years struggling to keep your
children in Catholic school while living with the pressure of making
ends meet, borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, etc, etc, etc, made me realize how
a 21 year old girl who had the world at her fingertips became the 48 year old
woman who sat before me Friday night, a hero in my eyes.

Since I'm the oldest of three, I've always had a very close relationship with my mother. Maybe it's the first born son thing, but I have a hunch it's because I'm so much like her she can't help but love me as she does. Halfway through her second apple martini, the floodgates opened and mom began to talk about her pregnancies. She was recently married when I was conceived so there was little time to enjoy married life without the stress of babies crying and diaper changing. Also, my mom and my mother had received some bad news the week I was born. The week before, my father was diagnosed with a touch of MS and was completely numb on the left side of his body. He was 24, she was 21.

As she went on, I couldn't help but think of who I was at 24, what seems like an eternity ago. I had just begun living on my own and was making only $23, 000.00 a year teaching, forced to eat tuna fish or bagels with cream cheese each night because I couldn't afford anything else. Something clicked: I began to realize how strong-willed and special a person my mom is, even more than I ever have before. Would I have been able to handle the stress of a new born, a recent marriage, and a husband who could potentially be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life? No. Would I have been able to handle a baby that didn't stop crying for three years, a second child a year after the first, and the work schedule of a recuperated husband on the graveyard shift as an NYPD rookie, forcing her to sleep alone most nights if she slept at all? Hell no.

At 27, I haven't experienced ANYTHING close to what my mother had by the time she was my age. A memory: I remember making fun of her perm when she got home from the beauty salon that day when I was 6 because I had never seen her hair curled. Looking back, that was one of the few things she ever did for herself; I laughed at her. She was beautiful. Another thought: At times watching her argue with my father and not knowing how an easy-going optimist could become so angry with him, and with us, and now wondering how she didn't kill the lot of us all together. Incredible.

I love you, mom. I love you for everything you ever wanted to be and never were, everything you wanted to do for us and never did and most importantly,
who you have become and all that you did for us. Thank you for giving your children the opportunity to know you not only as a struggling twenty-something with the world on her shoulders but also as a 48 year old woman with a wealth of experience to share with her now twenty-something children.

I LOVE YOU, LADY.
Your oldest son, Teddy How