Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Mom's Cancer Notes: Page 11

I'm annotating individual pages from my book Mom's Cancer as they're posted on GoComics.com. These are my notes on Page 11 (June 4). 


When I drew the picture of Mom modeling a swimsuit, I was relying on memories of photos I'd seen very briefly a long time before. Turns out my memory wasn't very good. Here are the actual pics of my Mom the model:


I could've sworn there was a beach ball.

What the heck, here are a couple more:


Beautiful! Classic Mid-Century Modern.

In case my asterisked footnote in the comic was too subtle, Mom worked as a model when she was 18 to 19. I was born shortly before she turned 20.

Having her papers and affairs in order was one of the best things Mom ever did for her family.


3 comments:

Mike Peterson said...

You hear of people ordering their papers burned after they die. Given the collection of boxes of random stuff I've got collected, I'm not sure my kids will have much of a choice. Good for your Mom.

norcalgal1959 said...

Good morning, Brian....my mom also had her trust updated and in order after she was diagnosed, and it WAS one of the best things she did for the family. Unfortunately, she HID the original in her house and we didn't find it until we were going through her things four months later. :-) Luckily, her attorney also had a signed original. We laughed when we found it, because it was just so like her to do that. And man, it was in a really weird place!

Regarding Monday's panel and how the diagnosis can beyond comprehension of the patient, here's a link to my blog dealing with that issue, but in a slightly different way. http://88fingers.me/2014/08/03/my-mothers-things/ I don't know if you have time to read it or not, but it touches on what your readers were discussing....how can I say goodbye if my loved one refuses/can't accept/can't comprehend the end?

I hope you have a wonderful day, Brian.

Brian Fies said...

That's a really beautiful essay, Norcalgal. I think anyone who's reached middle age understands and shares your regrets, when you realize you'll never hear those stories again and there's no one left you can call to ask the old family questions, which now will never have answers. I do envy you those four footlockers. That sounds like a good amount of stuff to pass down to the next generation--not too much to store, not so little that you leave no trace at all.