A very special ER

Am writing this while watching last Thursday's "er," finally. It's good, but difficult to watch. It's one of those star turns with James Woods as an academic who goes from the verge of a Nobel to near death. And his life may have just been extended for nothing. We'll see.

It's difficult for me to watch "er" sometimes. It reminds me of the time when I spent hours and hours and hours in hospitals and doctors' offices. That was when Mom was winding her way through the system, sometimes seeming better, sometimes feeling worse.

This episode is hard, with its caregiver-dying person dynamic. Though I never lived with Mom at the end. Or at all, after college. I gave her a lot, but in retrospect, I realize I was a chicken. I ran away. I ran back a lot. Sometimes a couple of times a week. But I ran away.

And then she was gone. She was only 55. And I was off to a new job after leaving the only job I ever really had -- the job where I learned my trade, met my husband and, most importantly, met my wife. I was fairly new in my house, and fairly new in living with Cheryl, though we'd been together for a while.

My brother and my father and I were then left with a family dynamic that was missing its major catalyzer and connection, for better or worse. We didn't have the thing that drove us together and apart and damn near crazy. And now, we don't see as much of each other as I would like.

I didn't call them today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before that.

Today would have been my mother's 62nd birthday.