We love you to the moon and back

Love you to the moon and back...

If you mattered to my mom, boy were you lucky! When she asked “How are you”, she truly cared. My mom was loving, compassionate, kind, empathetic, and truly everyone’s friend. Her heart was so big! She loved her friends and family  deeply. Her paper calendar was always filled with lunch dates and plans.

From my mom I learned to be kind, caring, compassionate, e mpathetic, and to have the biggest heart. She taught me that the small things — a card, a call, showing up, truly caring for those you love — are what matter.

My mom kept a birthday calendar on the fridge and not  a birthday ever went by without her sending a card. 

I’ll always remember her paper phone book. At night she would pull it out and say it was time to make her calls — and she would sit there calling friends and family, staying connected to everyone she loved.

And her friends never forgot her. Friends like Rochelle, Barbara  and Karen continued to visit and stay engaged, even through the hardest years. Rochelle sent two cards a week for five years. When you have friends like that, it says everything about who you are.

I was incredibly lucky to have her as my mom for 55 years. She tried to understand my competitiveness and all of my “crazy” adventures — even though she would never have chosen most of them herself, and she probally thought I was half crazy. She came to my games and sat in the stands cheering me on — not always knowing exactly what was going on, because sports were never really her thing — but there she was, supporting me.  I can still hear her voice: “Caryn… just be careful.” She always showed up.

I always felt so loved by my mom. My childhood was filled with love — and my friends have always felt it too. To this day, they say she made them feel special too. She had that gift.

Music filled our home growing up, Broadway hits, Doris Day, Pat Boone. The last few years, I would make playlists of her favorite songs and we’d sit outside and have our own little concerts. When the chorus of many songs played like Love Letters in the Sand she would close her eyes, lift her finger, and gently strum the music in the air. She still knew the words and In those moments, the music brought her back to us.

Being “Mimi” and “Mutti” to Korey, Amanda, and Julie was one of the greatest joys of her life. She was so proud of each of them — always ready with photos and stories, eager to brag about their accomplishments. They brought her so much happiness.

My parents traveled the world together— from Israel to China to cruises and national parks. One of my favorite pictures is of my parents riding mules at Bryce Canyon. I still don’t know how my dad convinced her to get on that mule — but there she is, going along for the adventure

My mom was very proper. But with the right push, I could get her outside her comfort zone — a pickle on a stick, a smile with a lime in her mouth, one too many margaritas on a cruise to Mexico, funny faces in a photo booth, climbing one step higher for the view. And I can still hear her — “Oh, Caryn…” — half protesting, half smiling.

My parents were married for 63 years. And I cannot talk about my mom without honoring my dad. He is my hero. “In sickness and in health” is something he has lived every day for the past seven years. I will never forget how he cared for her. He defines what marriage truly is. I love you dad. 

Alzheimer’s took her mind. But it never took her heart.

Mom, we love you to the moon and back.

And when I hear those old songs play, I will always think of you.

Right now, there is no shortage of ideas in Alzheimer’s research — only dollars. But together, we can help change that. Alzheimer’s touches all of us, and it will take all of us to end it. Please consider hiking and fundraising with us or making a donation. Thank you!