A Mother Remembers
By Nina Zemel
Mother’s Day is filled with memories of breakfast in bed. My husband, Brook, would sneak out of bed, wake our children, Ryan and Jori, and put them to work. I would lie in bed, wide-awake, wondering, “How much longer could it possibly take them?” Finally, they would come singing into the bedroom, and I would awake from my “deep sleep.” Breakfast would be served on a cookie sheet covered with a towel, decorated with a beautiful hibiscus from our garden that Jori had carefully selected. Gifts and photos would follow, and Jori would climb into bed with me and proceed to eat half of my breakfast. The three of them would be so pleased and proud of themselves, and I would feel very special. I know how very fortunate I am to have these precious memories.
My first, most vivid memory of Jori’s birth is of Ryan visiting her at the hospital. He took Jori timidly in his small arms and sang in a whisper, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” I remember how it warmed my heart to see my two children together enveloped in the hospital wing chair.
As a little girl, Jori would entertain herself for hours. Her dad and I would eavesdrop outside her bedroom door listening to her talk a mile a minute to herself. She would draw, cut and paste, and create intricate mobiles and collages. At night we always read stories and sang while tickling her feet. Brook would frequently play his guitar, and we would sing our favorite classic rock songs. I don’t think we ever put her to bed without telling her how much we loved her. She would always reply, “I love you so, so, so much.”
Jori loved school and took great pride in all of her work. She particularly loved to read, wrote poetry, stories, and plays – many of which remained incomplete because she would start a new one. She and her friends would put on performances for us, and Jori would invariably be the director.
Socializing with her friends and shopping were Jori’s favorite activities. She played softball, did gymnastics, and was a cheerleader. She loved playing with her animals and being with her family. Every year we would drive out to Crested Butte, Colorado – in the winters to ski and in the summers to play. The children would bring their best friends on these trips, and once out of the van, they could spread out and enjoy the ambiance and breath-taking views. Crested Butte was Jori’s favorite place in the world.
In 1999, Jori was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a type of bone cancer. Because of this, we instantly bypassed the difficult adolescent years, and Jori went from being a sometimes moody twelve-year-old, arguing with her parents, to a mature, young lady. The chemotherapy and surgeries were exhausting. While in the hospital recovering from yet another surgery, Jori told me that I was her very best friend and that she could tell me anything. Those words were the greatest Mother’s Day gift Jori gave me; many mothers wait a lifetime to hear them.
Jori died peacefully at home on New Year’s Day, 2001, surrounded by her immediate family and her best friends. Jori’s ashes are buried in her favorite place, Crested Butte, alongside the Slate River and below the majestic mountains she dearly loved. Jori was not only my daughter, but my greatest teacher, and my best friend. Every night before I fall asleep, I still tell her how much I love her. I can still hear her reply, “I love you so, so, so much.”
(Nina Zemel is the Vice President of the Jori Zemel Children's Bone Cancer Foundation, a foundation started by the Zemel family and their friends. Their mission is to educate, fund research and provide financial and emotional support to the children and families affected by this disease. www.jorizemel.com)
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