Nancy Colpaert was born Nancy Van Meter. She grew up in rural Illinois. She, my grandmother and my Uncle Bill had to keep the farm going after my grandfather died. His death was occurred just as the great depression hit. Times were incredibly hard for my mom. Losing her dad, and working hard to keep the farm, I believe, made her an incredibly strong person.
My mother worked hard to get her degree from Northwestern University. That is where she met Joe Colpaert, whom she would later marry. Her jobs included working for the TB Association, teaching, and a stint in the Navy during WWII. At one point she was in law school, and had hopes to be the first woman to attend the University of Notre Dame.
She and my dad were married for 49 years. During their marriage, they shared wonderful joys and incredible sorrows, as most couples do. I have commented on my brother David's passing before. I believe his death in 1968 changed my folks, and not necessarily for the better. They became sadder people.
My mom though was an incredible supporter of me. Growing up she sat through various shows I produced in our basement. Not sure if she like them, but it made her happy to be entertained. I might add, I was darned good performer too. Mom believed I could do anything I wanted in life. I may not have believed that, but it gave me great comfort to know she was on my side.
Coming out to her was a tough one. To be honest, I still don't know how she didn't know I was gay. C'mon your son is singing Chorus Line, Hello Dolly and taking you to see Fame. Still denial is a powerful thing. I know she did not like my sexuality, but I know in the end she was at peace with me.
1997 was the sad year. She was diagnosed with Liver Cancer in the Spring. We watched her deteriorate very quickly during this time. In the Fall she fell and broke her hip. This was the beginning of the end. I went to Florida to spend time with her. I was with her everyday in the hospital, talking to her like always. She looked very sad though at this point. On Halloween I was called back to Florida, she had a stroke. What we learned from this was that time was running out.
For the next week she could not communicate well with us. She could not speak. She could, however, squeeze our hands though. Her eye sight was nearly gone. I sat with her everyday and talked to her. I talked about the usual things, and never got emotional. Our last true conversation was before the stroke. I told her I wanted to go to Hong Kong, but did not know when. She told me I should go whenever I want. She taught me a valued lesson in travel. When I was younger she said the world was mine to go see, and I should go do it.
On November 7, 1997, we brought mom home. There was a hospice worker there. I told her we needed to put mom in something nicer than a hospital gown. We found a nice floral robe for her to wear. I spent part of the afternoon sitting at her side holding her hand, talking to her. Around 5:30 p.m., I was just looking at her. All I could see was the pain of the last few months. I squeezed her hand and told her, "I think we are going to be ok." Her eyes focused on me. She squeezed my hand, and then was gone. She needed to be told all would be well.
I have missed her everyday since that last moment. Even now I am in tears as I write this. I am now a runner. Mom would be supportive of my running, even if she did not know why I ran.
She will be in my thoughts as I get to the start line in Indianapolis, and I know she will watch over me as I run. I dedicate this marathon to Nancy Colpaert....mom I love you.
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