Acting In A Crisis**

How you act in a crisis shows who you really are. A simple statement we hear often. I am unsure of how I act in a crisis, I've never taken the time to find out. I can only hope I can like my mother during those times. She stays true to herself, no matter what the circumstance may be.

August 13th, 2006 my papaw passed away. At this time my mom was away visiting my sister in the Sunshine State. I'm unaware of how my mom found this heart wrenching news out. Soon after she did, she was on the phone calling me,

"Hey honey. Are you alright?"

"No."

"It will be ok. I'm coming home as soon as possible. Take care of yourself, keep your blood sugars up. I'll be home soon."

"Ok, I'll try." The whole conversation her voice was strong. She never missed a beat. I, however, could not control the tears that flooded my face, or find the strength to call upon my voice.

When my mom, sister, and her family finally made their way to little, old Mt. Orab, Ohio, I found it a little easier to deal with reality. This was when I found out my omnipotent mother broke down upon hearing the news. I learned this information from my brother-in-law, Billy.

We were sitting on an old, wooden bench outside the funeral home. I couldn't bring myself to go inside. I knew what I would face when I got past those doors. So, Billy decided to keep me company. We sat side by side in silence. In my head I was making lots of conversation, pondering when I could, or would accept my fate, walk through those doors and tell my papaw I love him and goodbye. While sitting, slumped on the bench, staring at the grey concrete, it seemed to be the same color that masked my mood and my life, I noticed my mom walk out the doors. She was cradling her younger sister, Patty, in her arms. I looked at my mom attentively consoling her sister and began to speak aloud, without any conscious knowledge,

"She's so strong." Billy looked relieved to have spoken words break the lonely silence.

"Yeah. But, she's crazy. She only cried for like five minutes when she heard. Then she just stopped, collected herself, and called you." I was stunned. My mom- always worried about me.

"She cried!"

"Yeah, for five minutes, then she was done."

"Hm." I sat and wondered why this seemed so strange to me. In that moment, I realized I was ready. I brought myself to my feet. Billy looked at me, his eyes wide as quarters, like he was still not ready to accept the reality,

"You ready to go in?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. I only have a few more hours with him, better make use of them."

"Well, I don't think I am, but I'll go in with you."

"If you want to, but I can do it alone."

Honestly, I do not recall if we went in together or not. I was on an independent mission. I walked the miles across the porch to the door. A woman opened it for me, I stepped through,

"Thank you m'am." I looked at her, but I didn't see her face. I just thought she needed praise for the courtesy, as well as helping me with that first big hurdle.

I walked genteelly through the chilled room. I went to the book to sign my name. My signature to confirm that I accepted my papaw had died, and I was here to pay my respects. I walked away, and stood in the next doorway. I had to remind myself to breathe. Taking the breathe, I lunged my foot into the next room. There she was, standing at his casket. Her inspiration helped me glide effortlessly to see him. We stood side by side, arms linked in awe of a great man. Eventually, I forced myself to leave; but, all throughout the night my mom stood keenly by her father. Thanking, comforting, and reminiscing with people. I stood in awe of a majestic woman- my mother.

Of course, she wept from time to time, but never losing her composure. I excused myself countless times to retrieve fresh air, and gain control of the flowing tears. She did not. She stood righteously by her father's side. She was not there to mourn his passing, but to celebrate his life. She was able to leave a smile on her face, even through the tears. She made everyone forget that he was gone, but showed us he lives through each one of us.

My mom acted in this particular crisis as she would on any given day- strong and grounded. I would hope that someone was around the room, admiring the way I was handling myself, the way I did with my mom. I would want to be tough and inspirational to another, and do it with elegance. It may not always be how you act in a crisis, but how you desire to act. Aspirations keep us growing. I yearn for nothing more than to grow up to be my mother.