December 31 would have been my mom’s 93rd birthday.

She was born on New Year's Eve. The 4th child of 5. The only girl. I’ve been told that my grandfather was so happy to have a girl, he got drunk the night she was born. He was not a drinker. My mom was raised by Greek immigrant parents who, were not educated or worldly. They were devout in their Greek Orthodox faith and taught their children the same virtues. I always felt that my mom walked a fine line between the modern world and her upbringing. Women weren’t supposed to get educations, but she wanted a career. She worked in a local bank until I was born. I recall her saying many times that if she had stayed in that job she would have been promoted to Vice President. She had aspirations and although she mostly stuck to tradition, she made small rebellions. She was never allowed to ride a bike, or go swimming. All too dangerous according to my grandmother. But she bought roller skates and sneaked them out of the house. She would tell my grandmother she was “babysitting” at one of her brothers’ homes, and go on dates with my dad. She made my sister and me take swimming lessons at the local YWCA and bought us bicycles. 

Although my sister and I were raised in the same traditions, in some ways my parents did quite the opposite of how they were raised. My dad always said a woman should have an education. She shouldn't rely on a husband. Very different thinking than most of his traditional Greek counterparts. He would say “ if your husband became ill or passed away suddenly, you shouldn’t have to work a retail job with difficult hours, managing a family alone.” 

My mom was spunky. It’s the best word in my opinion to describe her. She loved to laugh. She, my sister and I had more than a mother/daughter relationship, it was a friendship. We loved shopping together, cooking together, we would be silly and laugh until we cried. She loved margaritas and rosé wine. Mom made housekeeping a career. She had a production schedule and she stuck to it, like a job. She washed clothes on Mondays and Thursdays. Everything got ironed. The ironing board was positioned in the family room so she would watch her soaps while she ironed. I learned to iron with my right hand (I'm left-handed) because that's how she did it. Cleaning the house was a different day. She cut the grass and did yard work weekly. She had breakfast cooking and our lunches packed before we were out of bed in the morning. Most of the time there were fresh baked cookies. She was an excellent cook, all Greek and Mediterranean foods that she learned to cook from my grandmother. And she was famous among the family members for her loukoumades, or Greek sweet fritters. She would make giant bowls of them and all of the family, aunts, uncles, cousins, would gather around our small kitchen table to eat until we couldn’t eat anymore. It made her so happy to see everyone enjoying her cooking. I loved having my parents close by, my kids grew up having them active in their lives. First in Ohio, then here in Florida. Mom enthusiastically attended every musical performance, swim meet, graduation and other significant event. And she loved every minute. We spent every holiday together. She would show up with a giant pan of pastitsio (a Greek pasta casserole), and she made the best bread, also a staple for the holidays. As her dementia took hold, she began to struggle with remembering the recipes that had been embedded in her head. My dad would help her in the kitchen but eventually she couldn’t do it anymore. I’m glad I was paying attention to everything she made, but my finished dishes just don’t taste the same as when she made them.

Mom passed away on Valentine’s Day, almost 3 years ago. Hearts were her favorite motif, so there’s a synchronicity for me in that. She was ill with dementia for nearly 10 years. It was sad to watch the light go out of her eyes. Anyone who has had experience with Alzheimers knows it’s hell on earth. We all suffered together. But I prefer to remember her for all the fun she was, and how much we enjoyed just doing simple things together.

On New Year’s Day, we begin a new year with new hopes for a better year than what we left behind. In many ways it provided an opportunity to reflect and prioritize what is important, like our loved ones and our health. As I do every year,  instead of making a resolution, I choose a word of the year. Last year the word was “release”, and boy did I let go of some stuff! Some things I didn’t intend to let go of that left me, and others I willingly relinquished, all for the better in the long run. This year the word is “joy”. I will continue to find joy in all I do.  At the beginning of 2020 I had no idea that I would experience such drastic changes, and that it would lead me to my newest passion. And that I would enjoy it all so much. Keep seeking joy in all you do, the tough stuff makes you appreciate the good stuff that much more. Wishing you a joyful and prosperous 2021.