Mother

At the printing of this note, my mother would have lived 92 years and 10 days.

My mother was a nurse by profession. Her rasion d'etre was to help others. Her patients absolutely loved her. Often they sent her gifts to express their appreciation for the compassionate care she rendered to them. For hospitalized family members, she would dressed in her uniform and sit at their bedside during the night shift. What comfort this must have been? Furthermore, she never accept a cent from them for her profession service. "They are family!", she would exclaim.

Of course such a servant wished her offspring followed her in their life's work. And that was her wish for me.

To my earlier memory, mother purchased toy physician sets for my birthday gifts and she would get on the floor and play "doctor" with me. As we played, she called me Doctor Gavin. I remember this happening on at least two occasions. I have no recall of us playing doctor after the fourth grade. But at unpredictable times - and they were not frequent - she would call me Dr. Gavin. During my high school career, I remember her calling me Dr. Gavin once. Over time I came to realize that mother was programming me to serve others as a physician, but that didn't happen.

However my firstborn, her first grandchild, became a physician. She dutifully serves others. When she graduated from medical school, I financed mother's travel to witness my daughter's completion ceremony as a physician. After the ceremony, we were all proudly gathered around our new doctor in the family. I gently clasped my mother and my daughter's hands and said, "Ma, I present you, Dr. Gavin."