Loss

This is something I NEVER wanted to write – and didn't think I would for many years:

This Friday, it will be a month since the world lost Zora.

Where do I begin?

Zora was Alex’s mother – and mother to Alex’s wonderful sister, wife to their dad and Nana to three of the cutest little boys you’ve ever laid your eyes on. She was also a friend to so many, you couldn’t even count. Everyone who knew Zora understood the groundwork: unconditional, friend to anyone she spoke to, and helper to all.

I will never forget when Alex said to me, “I can’t wait for you to meet my mom…you’ll love her.” In some instances, this would be the greatest red flag to a girl and in my experience it could mean that the umbilical cord has not been cut or that Mama has great hold on Junior. I was a little nervous and cautious but knowing and trusting Alex, I was open. Then I met his mom – and understood.

Zora was like a light force in the Universe. She walked through her life helping, giving, laughing and smiling whilst her goodness was being spread. She was more than Alex could have ever described and yes, I did love her, instantly.

There was no fear of her. She accepted me quickly and when I was put under her wing, I felt like I was in the position of honor.

When I saw Zora and Alex together, I understood. They were as close as a son and mom could be. The two of them could hang around for hours. They talked all the time and they were really good friends. Old pictures of Alex being a little boy dictate this as well. There is a great picture of them from a few years back – they are about a foot apart and Alex’s hands are out in a talking manner and Zora is laughing. It is exactly as they were.

Zora and I always had poignant conversations -- about people, about ghosts and horoscopes, about our lives. I loved when she spoke of her kids and all of the light they brought to her. She knew them in the deepest personal way. Alot of parents lose sight of who their kids really are, but even as adults, she knew both of her kids on a whole other level. They were close friends beyond just being mother and child.

She understood people in general, and as her daughter said, she looked at the good in people -- not that she was naive, but that her focus was on the good parts.

The first Christmas after my mother died, Zora and Alex’s father W invited my father and I to their home in Vegas. My dad is not a person that has ever been guested by strangers, but I assured him he would be comfortable.

Zora not only was the best hostess, but she went out of her way to make Yugoslavian foods that my father hadn’t eaten in years along with enough Potica (Slovenian walnut bread) to send to my siblings.

My father was also touched that Zora brought out my old love of cooking / baking and were like a team in the kitchen…we were literally on the lockdown for hours. But it was never work. We chatted. We laughed. We even cried once or twice. And I learned a great deal in those times behind the scenes…and my father, who again, rarely stayed with strangers, had the best time. He felt at home and laughed with them and enjoyed every minute on his adventure.

The weekend of Father’s day, we were supposed to go visit Zora and W in Vegas. The Monday before (June 15), Alex’s sister called saying no one had heard from Zora all day.

This might seem odd for most, but again, Zora had 100’s of friends…she could be anywhere. But there was something deep down that felt wrong. After W made some calls, we found out she’d been in the hospital ½ of the day. What.the.fuck?

Alex drove out the next morning. I stayed back thinking I would be going out there the following week to help her get back to normal. I thought it was just a little stroke and there would be rehabilitation. I thought I would just be around to help nurse her back to health. I just assumed she would be fine in a few weeks.

By the time Alex arrived, I’d already bought a ticket to fly out. There was a feeling of urgency every time I spoke with another family member. Alex’s sister, whose brood was sick, was also caring for her new 6-week old baby but made the trek with her family.

I can only say those were the two cruelest days I’d ever experienced and watching her family was heartbreaking. When I looked at her two children, who were both the loves of her life, I just wished I could take all of their pain away…

She died the night of the June 17th at 10:22 PM.

The days that followed were just utter craziness. No sleep. A memorial in Vegas. Rushing home, going to work with my head in a dark bucket and trying to digest the emptiness. Tons of flowers, cards and phone calls came. Friends came around and listened, cried and helped SO much. The memorial in L.A. at our house was beautiful, especially when Alex’s sister delivered the most heartfelt, tear-jerking speech about her mother. Our little home was at full capacity. We expected 80 people and got about 130. Neighbors who were virtual strangers came to tell stories of her and her ways of getting involved and helping. Friends cried, family held each just a little closer. Stories were told. There was a little laughter and a lot of tears, along with food, drink and so many desserts, some I’d forgotten about until the next morning…

And then it was quiet.

I had just said a few months back to Bunnie, that the day something happened to Zora, it would be the worst thing her family could go through.

This doesn’t even really cover it. There is SO much more to say.

Having lost my own mother, I know how hard this all is, but with terminal disease, your mourning comes out in different moments, and when the time comes that they are taken from you, there is a strange feeling of peace. You’re sad, but you know it’s inevitable.

This was not anything close. She was only 63. She was so present. She was so involved with so many people in so many ways. She was so full of life, light and love.

While I am so grateful for the time I had knowing her, there was so much more I wanted to learn from her. I am happy that my father and sister and a few close friends knew her and adored her, too but I wanted my other family members and friends to know her. Her children were not through getting great advice, telling her their secrets, laughing with her or getting fed from the best cook on the planet. They weren't through with any part of her. Her friends weren’t done laughing with her, playing penny slots, cooking, getting real estate advice or just advice in general…

I think everyone feels robbed. I know I do.