'I desperately wanted to go with all of them'

I’ll never forget the call I got from my son years ago while I was out of town at a weeklong conference. He was about 15.

He had a very tight group of friends who had known each other since nursery school. Most of the moms had less demanding jobs and were able to get close.

One of the moms had been diagnosed with melanoma. She was the mom that everyone loved. Thoughtful, great with all the kids, so friendly and inviting to everyone, she would often invite the kids and moms to her pool. (I never could go; I was always busy working.)

Her cancer was very aggressive. The moms would keep me posted on her condition, but I didn’t have the latest update. I intended to follow up before my trip, but got too busy and didn’t remember. My plan, when I returned, was to get the updates and prepare my son for the worst.

So, there I was in a hotel room in the Midwest somewhere, far away from my son when he called as I was getting ready to go out for a dinner meeting. “Mom, one of the moms will be taking us all to the hospital,” he said, “it’s a place called hospice.”

My heart dropped deep into my stomach. He continued so innocently, “She’s fine, mom. Everyone is going in to see her tonight, and we all chipped in and got her flowers too.”

He had no understanding of how sick she really was. The kids only knew her diagnosis was serious. To be honest, I don’t think any of us fully realized how quickly her condition would deteriorate, nor did my son or his friends understand that it meant this incredibly caring mom to all would not make it.

I can vividly recall where I was standing in my hotel room that night, so many hours away from my innocent son. I cried when our call ended. I did my best to prepare him for this visit without being with him, holding back a bit of detail as I described to him what to expect. But I was not there. I desperately wanted to go with all of them and be there for my son to say goodbye to this wonderful woman. I felt the hole in my heart deepen.

It turned out that the kids didn’t go, but the flowers made it. Perhaps that was better for her. Thankfully, I did make it home before she passed and we were able to go to the funeral together. I was so glad to be there at that moment for my son.

Look, we all pave different paths for ourselves and our families. We must embrace our choices rather than have regrets.

I can’t change who I am — a career woman with a lot of drive. Over the years, I have often wondered what life would have been like if I didn’t work, or at least if I had a less demanding career. My kids, adults now, and I have discussed my crazy hours many times. They grew into independent and fabulous people and it warms my heart that they tell me this:

“Mom, if we had the ability to do it again, we wouldn’t change a thing. Your career made us who we are today, with the values we are proud of. It taught us a lot.”

Randi Shubin Dresner is the president and CEO of Island Harvest.