One of the things I cherished most about my adult relationship with my mom was discovering new things about her—little surprises that have now become some of my favorite memories. That was especially true one weekend afternoon years ago when I was visiting Garden City with my daughter. We were in town for my grandmother’s milestone birthday, and on our way to celebrate, we all piled into the same car—my mom, my sister, my daughter, and me.
At the time, my daughter was a young teenager who loved being the car DJ. As soon as her phone connected, she had a playlist ready—full of songs that reminded her of GC, summer barbecues, the Fourth of July, and time with family. One of the songs on that playlist was “Drinking Problem” by Midland.
I hadn’t paid much attention to the song before. It was just a feel-good country tune. But my daughter adored it—she thought it sounded like fireworks and sunshine and being surrounded by people you love.
So there we were, cruising down the road, when she played it. To my total surprise, my mom started singing along—word for word! Before long, we were all belting it out together. My mom told us my dad’s band played that song and that she loved it. She’d listen to it on her way to work or home, and it always put her in a good mood.
Today marks the fifth anniversary of her passing. And that song? It’s still on several of our family playlists. We all know the words now. Every time I hear it, I’m taken back to that moment in the car—singing, laughing, discovering yet another part of my mom I didn’t know before. It still amazes me that someone who hardly ever drank considered “Drinking Problem” one of her favorite songs!
Right now, I’m sitting outside, gathering my thoughts on this day. And I can’t tell you how many times over the last week I’ve walked through “thin places”—those spaces where it feels like heaven and earth touch. Every one of them reminds me of her.
For the past 48 hours, it feels like everything has pointed to my mom. And wouldn’t you know, just as I was enjoying the peace of the afternoon, a car drove by—windows down, music blaring. And what were they playing?
“Drinking Problem.”
Everyone in the car was singing.
Thank you, Mom, for meeting me in all the thin places these past few days. If you have a minute, listen to the song for her…and for us. We miss you.
Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.
Empty Chairs, Everywhere 