On April 1, 2026, my Mom would have been 93 years old.
She actually passed away on December 2, 2024, and the apparent cause of death was listed as “failure to thrive.” Whatever in the hell that means. What I can tell you is that if that can be a cause of death… then ever since December 2, 2024, I’ve been technically dead, because I have certainly “failed to thrive.”
You see, my Mom was my hero and my best friend. Throughout my entire life, she and I were attached in a very special and unique way. It wasn’t all lovey-dovey either — she was a strict disciplinarian, and I admired and feared her for that.
I’ll never forget the night she threw me in the back of the Jeep after I had failed to show up at our rendezvous point after a high school football game. Walking out of the Pizza Hut with my friends and seeing her driving down Main Street… and when our eyes locked on each other, the tires of the Jeep came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road as she screamed, “Bobby Cloyd, don’t you move a muscle!” My friends scattered. I was in big trouble. But that’s what I loved about my Mom. She was fierce.
She was also funny. She had the greatest laugh and demeanor, and I never heard anyone say otherwise. In fact, wherever I went in our small town, people both young and old would say the same thing: “I just love your Mom!” That made me so proud.
Mom was also beautiful, athletic, and healthy. I was always so proud of how disciplined she was about eating the right things. She never struggled with weight and was always walking, working out, and taking care of herself — just as she took care of all those lucky people in her life she loved… and there were many. She loved her family — all of them. Her Mom and Dad (Nana and Big Jim), her siblings (Pete, Bill, and Susan), and all of their children, in addition to her own family, got the love she poured out on everyone around her. She never stopped loving her family — and vice versa.
My Mom was amazing. My Mom IS amazing. Yet for those she left behind… we have not healed. I know my brother and sister are like me when I say I have lost a part of myself that I know I will never get back. The pain is deep, and like my siblings, I have stuffed it and not dealt with it. I think the reason is this: I fear I will heal. And as crazy as that may sound… as long as I’m suffering, I have her with me. And I’m afraid that if I heal… that will go away.
So yes… I have failed to thrive. And I’m okay with that. I will forever love and miss my Mom.