Not trying to date myself, but I’m having one of those “A Few Minutes with Andy Rooney” nights.

If you don’t remember Andy Rooney, he was a satirist who appeared in the closing segment of the news program *60 Minutes*.

He’d pick some random, often overlooked subject, and deliver a thoughtful, wry monologue.

Usually, he’d start with, “Have you ever wondered about…” and then dive into whatever was on his mind.

It was funny, timely, and relatable—and I always enjoyed it.

 

Tonight, I’ve been wondering about a lot of things, but mostly I’ve been thinking about my mom.

 

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### Remembering Mom

I still miss her deeply. She was one of those rare people who could be easy to talk to without ever making you feel judged.

If she *did* have an opinion, she usually kept it to herself until much later, preferring to let us figure things out on our own.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t step in if we were in trouble—she was always a phone call away—but she believed in letting us think on our feet.

 

The mess my life became between my husband’s death and hers—just nine months apart—must have been painful for her to watch.

One of the heaviest regrets I carry is how much I must have disappointed her during that time. She taught me better.

In truth, the main reason I finally straightened out my life was because my substance use had made me so sick that I couldn’t travel to her in her final hours.

That’s a brutal way to learn a lesson.

 

It’s hard enough to say goodbye to your mom. It’s even harder to live with the knowledge that you didn’t show up for her when it mattered most.

 

—

 

### What She Taught Me

If there’s one lesson Mom truly instilled in me, it’s the importance of kindness, empathy, and compassion.

She didn’t preach it—she lived it. I can honestly say she would give you the shirt off her back, even if it was her last one.

She listened to people, offering quiet strength just by being present.

 

I wish I were better at that. Too often, I catch myself listening only so I can speak.

I still care deeply, but I sometimes struggle to simply *be there* without trying to fix or comment.

I work on it, because I want to be the kind of person she was.

 

—

 

### Family Ties

Mom’s side of the family had its quirks—interesting personalities, memorable “momisms” she inherited from her father, and a history that I wish I could revisit through the letters I wrote to my grandfather as a child.

Those letters are probably long gone, lost in the chaos of life, but I’d give anything to read them again.

 

Her mother passed away when I was in high school. It happened on the same day our band performed at the state music festival—a surreal and bittersweet moment I’ll never forget.

 

Dad’s side was equally colorful. My Aunt Pat and Uncle “Tink” were especially memorable—Tink earned his nickname because he loved to tinker.

I’ll never forget walking into their home and seeing a framed needlepoint that read, *“Our family puts the fun in dysfunctional.”*

The funny thing is, I never saw either side of my family as dysfunctional at all. We were close-knit and genuinely connected.

 

—

 

### The Importance of Staying Connected

Here’s the point—family matters. Without those solid ties, we drift. I’ve seen too many people, especially here in Utah, treat parenting as something that ends at age 18, or when a child doesn’t conform to religious expectations.

That’s not how it works. Being a parent doesn’t stop when your kid becomes an adult.

Sometimes, they’ll need you just as much at 28—or 48—as they did at 8.

 

My parents modeled behavior that gave me a moral compass. Even when I wasn’t listening—or was actively doing the opposite—it was there, guiding me.

If you can give your kids that, you’ve given them something they’ll carry forever.

 

I’m not a parent, but that doesn’t make the advice less true.

If you can’t raise children with compassion, guidance, and a sense of responsibility, you’re setting them up to fail.

And if you don’t care about helping children succeed—even those who aren’t yours—you’re making the world a harder place for everyone.

 

—

 

### Closing Thoughts

I miss Mom. I miss the way she listened. I’m lucky to have friends who will listen now—but they’re not her.

Even though she’s gone, I still love my mom and my dog, because love is the best way to honor what they gave me.