Steady. Present. Unshakable. Happy Mother’s Day!
Before I had opinions, I had a mother who overcame the chaos life threw at us. This isn’t a Hallmark card. It’s a thank-you note to the woman who gave me the roots so I could one day spread my wings.
This past Sunday was Mother’s Day.
Normally, I use Dustin’s Dispatch to talk politics, culture, and whatever fresh chaos the news cycle is feeding us. But once in a while, it’s worth setting all of that aside to talk about one of the people who made it possible for me to have an opinion about anything in the first place.
For this piece, my mother will remain nameless. Not because she’s mysterious, but because she’s every bit as familiar as she is extraordinary.
She did the kind of work that rarely comes with applause.
She showed up.
She took care of business.
She carried more than her share with grace.
And she did it without asking for a trophy or ticker-tape parade. Just love, family, and the chance to build something better for her kids.
My mom’s story would probably look familiar to a lot of people. Same hopes. Same plans. Same ideas of how life is supposed to go.
Then I showed up and threw a monkey wrench into the whole damn thing.
And I’d love to tell you I hated it. That I resented missing school. That I stared out the hospital window wishing I was in math class.
But let’s be honest.
When you’re a kid and you get to skip school every other Friday for a surgery called an esophageal dilation, it starts to feel less like a medical calamity and more like a scheduled oil change. That’s what I called them, mostly to shrug off the questions. You know, like a Honda that needs routine maintenance, except the “maintenance” is in my throat.
And here’s the part that makes me sound a little ridiculous: post-op food was my reward. Since you can’t eat after midnight on surgery day I was always starving.
I’d come out of anesthesia feeling like I got into a bar fight with a belt sander, but I still knew exactly what time it was. It was “chow down on whatever I want” time.
My go-to was a Cuban crab roll from a hole-in-the-wall spot we’d hit on the way home from the hospital. Even if they’d stretched a bit too far and my throat hurt like hell, I couldn’t resist. That sweet burn. Those not-so-subtle spices. It tasted like victory, with a side of bad decisions labeled “hot sauce” in the empty bag next to me.
I was born without an esophagus. A decade earlier, I probably would not have made it. That was the unfortunate reality my mom and I found ourselves in. Back then, we were a long way from my Friday afternoon Cuban crab rolls.
If you want to know what saved me, look no further than my mom’s dogged determination and refusal to accept no as an answer.
Doctors had rules. Hospitals had visiting hours. Bills had numbers. She simply didn’t care. I was her priority, and nothing was going to get in her way.
Her son was going to make it through these medical challenges, and that was that. He was going to beat the odds and get the chance to grow up like every other kid his age.
Those early years were a blur of hospitals, specialists, and long nights that never seemed to end. She was always there. And I’m sure she made herself memorable to more than one doctor or nurse along the way.
Some people follow instructions.
Others don’t accept “no” for an answer.
They see barriers as obstacles to charge through.
My mom falls into the latter category.
More than 400 surgeries later, she’s still the same person. Steady. Present. Unshakable. The kind of strength you don’t see on Instagram, but you feel in every part of a life that keeps moving forward.
I’m also blessed she met the man who became “Dad” to my younger sister and I.
He’s an excellent attorney, which means he’s spent plenty of time in court for companies like Ford or Mercedes. And yes, even once for me too.
In my defense, I was never trying to end up in a courtroom. But when I did, he had a fierce tenacity reserved only for his top clients.
Thankfully, and due in large part to our mother, my sister and I stayed clear of any serious trouble. But like my mom, he was and remains there anytime we need.
These days, with my autoimmune diagnosis and long-term treatment, I’ve also been blessed with another strong woman in my corner: my wife.
I don’t take that for granted.
If you’ve ever been seriously sick, you learn quickly who can stand in the fire with you. Between my wife, my mom, my dad, my sister, and a long list of others, I’ve got a kick-ass team behind me. Think the 1980’s Miracle on Ice or Tom Brady’s 7-ring run with the Patriots and Bucs and you’ve got some idea of my unbeatable bunch.
But, even now, I still can’t imagine being in my mom’s position, especially in the early years. Even having lived it, I look back and wonder if I would have had her courage when the moment demanded it.
She didn’t just endure. She pushed forward. She overcame. She conquered.
Her determination showed up in her work, too. She’s built several successful businesses. She went on the road when my sister and I were young because keeping a roof over our heads was not optional.
Being a single mother is not some Hallmark card.
It’s a grind.
It’s a thousand decisions made under pressure.
It’s sacrifices that nobody sees.
My mom dealt with all of it without wavering. She met it head-on every single time.
Now she’s spearheading her latest venture, with my dad right by her side: an apple orchard. It started with my grandfather, and I know he’s watching all of this with absolute pride and a whole lot of love.
That’s what she does.
So with the world spinning faster and louder every year, here’s my reminder to myself, and maybe to you too: take a step back and appreciate what you have. Appreciate who you have. Especially the people who built your foundation when you were too young to understand what that meant, or how much it would matter later.
No matter what gets put in front of me, I know I’m walking on the steadfast foundation my mother fought to lay for me and my sister.
I’m grateful for her. I’m grateful for my wife. I’m grateful for my dad and sister and so many others. In good times and bad, they show up, and I’m blessed to have them.
And on Mother’s Day, that’s the point.
Hold tight to the people you love, in good times and bad, and never let go.