Hello Daniel , and to all of you here.
Daniel, I almost started talking about my own loss when I responded to
your May Day post. But I didn't want to detract from your beautiful
memory. Speaking as a mother, I feel confident in saying that it is
probably the greatest wish she ever had that you would have happy warm
memories of her.
I lost my mother in January 2004. She announced her pancreatic cancer
to us on Veterans Day 2003, suffered a stroke which stole her gift of
speech on Thanksgiving 2003 and was gone on January 29th 2004. I
miss my mother so much that I can't even express it to myself.
Watching her suffer was dreadful. But as I stayed by her, I observed
her strength and learned things I could otherwise never know about the
woman inside the woman I called Mother. She was so stoic in her pain
and appeared almost comfortable facing the inevitability that she was
about to leave us all. The only frustration that she seemed to feel
(and I shared) was that the thief - the stroke - stole her ability to
tell us all that she needed to tell us. We did a strange version of
charades and twenty questions. And went through so much -- but the
end, she found the will to laugh at the silly words that came out in
place of the words she'd intended.
I moved forth from her loss, determined to honor her wish to "Miss
me, but let me go" and to remember with fondness the happiest of times
and to live in a way that would make her proud. That didn't make my
daughter's wedding, and the birth of my first grand child (her first
great grandchild) any easier. I so wanted and needed her by my side
and the skills and talents to organize the wedding. My dad acted as
my usher the day of the wedding. My daughter credits my mother for
the perfect cloud free day for her outdoor wedding.
I lost my father this past November. The Monday before Thanksgiving.
Somehow it's almost as if he had a master plan. For the first time in
decades my brothers, myself and our families came together -- First to
offer Thanks and then to bury our dad next to our mother.
Although I was always so much closer to my mother (I'm the only
daughter) I took Dad's death much worse and seemed to come apart at
the seams in the days and weeks that followed. I wonder if having had
the chance to step in and help Dad through his loss -- he and mother
were married 56 years at the time of her death -- didn't provide the
buffer I needed and the focus I now some how lack. I also had the
gift of time to spend with my dad and really learn who he was, what he
truly had in his heart. So many years Dad spent on the road as I was
growing up. Earning a living to provide for his family. It was his
sole goal in life, it seems, to have provided a safe life for his
growing family, and security for us after he was gone. What a
blessing I had in having those years. And it seemed that in a split
second of time -- it was all gone. Of course, it wasn't a split
second. It was at least two months of hospital time to find out why
his gut wouldn't stop bleeding and then they found it, excised nearly
three quarters of his colon. He was on the upswing. We were looking
forward to soon moving him to a rehab facility to regain his strength.
Then the blood clots moved into his legs and into his lungs. And like
the snap of a finger (he waited until the oldest son made it there
from out of state) he was gone. We'd seen him last at about 7 pm. By
midnight we had the call that he'd gone into cardiac arrest. By 12:20
he was gone.
I'm sorry this is so long. I don't think I've ever set it out in
words like this.
I can finally review the events without caving in, eyes wa****ng out,
chest heaving for want of air.
The spontaneous panic attacks that followed me around like a stalker
have finally started to recede. I can think of Dad and not hold my
breath until the fear p*****. Fear of what -- I've no idea. The fear
that my family will dismantle now that Dad's not here to hold the hub
of the wheel. That my youngest older brother is drifting out of my
life, making a new life with his wife, who put her life on hold for so
many years so that my brother could stay near Dad to help him through
the medical emergencies that came up and care for the land that was
becoming too much. That my older brother has unwittingly behaved in
such a way as to drive my younger older brother (I'm the youngest and
only girl) away. Behaved in such a way that -- oh, my, can I stand
the disintegration of the family ties that Mother & Dad worked so hard
to make strong?
I've made this too long. But to anyone who read this far, thank you.
I have to hold strong to the blessings in my life, and move forward to
live in a way to bring honor to my parents who would probably wag
their fingers in disapproval if I were to "wallow" too long in my
grief. I have my husband, who proved himself to be a rock for me to
lean on. I have my son and daughter who both work hard to create
their own way in this world. I have my beautiful granddaughter, whose
smiles light my days. And I know, as my mother knew, that were I to
leave this place tomorrow, I would only want for them to grieve for a
short time and then take the lessons I hope I taught them to move
forward and become the best they can be.
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