Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts

Monday, May 22, 2017

And so it goes... marking the passage


I remember when this photo was taken in a photo booth in the mall near my childhood home.  My mom had never been in one before and the first shot has us both looking stunned at the camera.  We caught on and this captures the sheer fun that we had together that day. Shortly after that, my mom was found collapsed beside her bed and we began the three year journey that completed with her death in Victoria four days ago.  

She died as most of us would wish to go, with her son and daughter at her side, holding her hand, hugging her and sending her out with love.  She had been unresponsive for the previous few days and neither my brother nor I had seen her for over a week because of an outbreak of Noro virus in the long term care hospital.  I firmly believe that by the time I finally got in to her, she was mostly gone and she never regained consciousness or acknowledged our presence.  Still, I got a number of hours of reading Winnie the Pooh stories, singing the songs I remember as her favourites and showering her with loving energy to ease her way in the final days.  My singing probably left much to be desired and I got stuck after the first verse of several old songs and had to hum the rest (Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do, I'm half crazy all for the love of you.  It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage, but you'd look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two...la la la).  I laughed at my attempts as my mom would have done and I hope she got a giggle from whatever deep place she was dwelling.

As it became clear that she wasn't going to bounce back from this downturn and surprise us with a request for a cup of tea as she did last time, the inevitability of her end was apparent.  I had stepped out for a bite to eat on the afternoon of her death and my brother had to call to tell me to return quickly.  I managed to get there for the last few minutes of her life and had the grace of breathing with her as she drew her last breath.  I have never been in the presence of someone dying and it so reminded me of being in the room when my grandsons were born.  There is this tremendous exhalation of energy in the very last moment of both birth and death.  The world shifts and one soul enters or exits.  The palpable experience I had of being present to my mom's life ending was a gift.  There is no question she was leaving on wings of love.  

I am peaceful and complete with my mom's passing.  There is the business of her death which I am working through as her Executor.  There is the difficult relationship that I have with my brother which is stretched to the breaking point in the stress and tension of grief.  There is an empty space where my visits with Mom and thoughts about how to take care of her existed.  There is a "Mama-less" world to negotiate after three years of being very close and connected with her.  

We had switched places in the last few years.  I became responsible for the decisions and finances of her life.  She trusted me to make the choices and although she was frightened sometimes and not certain of what was going on, when she was with me she said she knew it was all okay.  I got to take good care of her, be a good daughter and let her know how much I loved her.  She was able to tell me how proud she was of me and how much she thought I had done a good job in my life.  I am endlessly grateful for the time she had in my city, where I was a five minute drive away and could sit and watch Bonanza reruns with her and brush her hair and be silly with her.  

I will miss you, Mama.  Keep an eye on us, okay?  

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Letting go and passages of life



I was going through the dresser in my mama's bedroom, preparing the few things that will accompany her to the Long Term Care community that is her new home.  At least, I certainly hope it will be, the final answer has not been determined, but like one of my wise friends advised, I am moving ahead as if what I want has already happened. I will only be able to bring a few suitcases of her belongings on the first part of this journey and need to organize what other pieces will be shipped in the coming weeks.  

The top drawer was stuck and I could barely get my fingers in to feel what was preventing it from opening.  After a number of frustrating moments with a wooden spoon, I pulled out the drawer beside it and reached in to push an old picture frame down to free the drawer.  The contents are many old photographs, documents and keepsakes from my father, my grandparents and my mom.  The photo that was stuck was a portrait of my mom at about 20 years old, a beautiful sepia toned black and white of this gorgeous, vibrant young woman, her curly thick hair pulled back from her face and her full lips are in a welcoming smile.  She is wearing rhinestone earrings that I recognize from a set she has since given to me and a matching brooch.  Her eyes capture you with their pure determination and her flawless, smooth skin glows.  She is a stunning woman and at once I understood why this photo stopped me from opening the drawer.

My mom is 89 almost 90 years old and is at the end of her life.  She nearly accomplished her wish to die in her home and would have, had the Health Care aide not found her collapsed by the side of the bed with a nearly fatal low blood oxygen level.  I flew to be by her side, not knowing what to expect when I arrived and she has now spent over two weeks in the geriatric unit of a local hospital.  In her typically stubborn manner, she has rallied, sufficiently to be ready to be discharged next week, but has been assessed incapable of being in her home alone, due to dementia and incapacity to be mobile without assistance. The opportunity to move her to the retirement community where I work part time came up and most of the paperwork is complete to set the wheels in motion.  

It is a huge move, away from the city that has been her home for 85 years and the house that she has lived in for the past 56 of them.  She and my father raised my brother and I here but my mom was the glue, the backbone of the family.  My father's life was an interesting one, fodder for many other blogs. He died at the young age of 67.  Mom has been here on her own for almost 28 years.  Being in her home has been the single driving force for her life in the past decade and up to 3 weeks ago, I would have bet money on her not ever leaving it.  Now, given the choice of living in a Long Term Care home here in Calgary with none of her family nearby, or a move to Victoria where we all are (me, my brother, my husband, her two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren), she chose to trust me to move her to somewhere safe.  She has also entrusted me with emptying her home and selling it to finance the steep monthly care fees to keep her going.

I have spent the past two and half weeks in my childhood home, sleeping in it alone for the first time.  It has been a period of letting go and saying goodbye.  My mom's memory, gracefully has already faded many of the details of the house and she seems quite accepting, if a little frightened, of the change.  For me, it represents a huge task, but one that I have found can be paid for with a service that will clear the entire house in 4 days.  My brother wants some time to be here but I am leaning towards the fee for freedom method!

Today, I am celebrating the magnificent young woman who smiles at me as I type this from her dining room table.  I honour you, Mama, and promise I will take very good care of you and all that you have collected over the years.  In my heart, I understand why that drawer wouldn't open, she doesn't want to leave, any more than she wants to be in that creaky, painful old body.  I am absolutely certain that the spirit of this being is alive and well inside my mama.  

There will undoubtedly be more reflection as the final days here wind down, along with a whirlwind of tasks to be completed.  I felt it important to pause today, Easter Sunday, to love and let go of this piece of my mom and to move swiftly to the place where we are now, with joy and anticipation of the time to come.



Thursday, July 2, 2009

Maple leafs and flags and changes


Spending Canada Day with good friends on an unusually hot July 1st and in a breathtakingly beautiful place allowed me to pause mid-week and once again get a measure of the brilliance of my life. Observing my dear friend as she absorbed news about a serious health challenge for her elderly father, watching as different aspects of the awareness struck her, I was impressed by her strength and grace. She didn't resist when emotions passed through her, didn't avoid us as the gathering and Canada day celebration went on in her lovely home, allowed us to be there, shared with us when it felt right. Today, she is flying off to be with family as they deal with the crisis, which is perfect and appropriate. I hope that we provided her with some space in between, to be with her feelings and to see the continuity of life as her daughter and grandchildren played in the sun with those of us fortunate enough to be in her circle of community.


This brings to the surface once again the inevitability of my mom's departure. Of a similar age as my friend's father, I am always somewhat waiting for a call with news of a signficant change in her well-being. Not living near her seems harder and harder as she ages, determined as she is to remain alone in her familiar home. I have reconciled with her choice of staying put and honour her commitment to her home and cat yet I am fearful that no one would be there if something catastrophic occurred. An interesting balance - a pull to be there for her, take care of her and an equal and opposite tug to be here with the imminent birth of the grandbaby. Obviously, I chose a long time ago to make my life away from the city of my birth and don't regret having become a west-coaster, but certainly wish for the invention of instant transportation in the event of really good or bad news!