About My Mom
My mom died about three weeks ago. I originally thought I would have a better understanding of how I'm feeling three months later, but I don't. I still feel numb. I really loved my mom and I know I'm going to miss her.
I feel at peace with my Mom's death. Partly I'm relieved that she's no longer confined to a bed with a stomach tube. I'm relieved that her health will no longer create havoc in my sister's life or discord between all of my siblings. I'm relieved to not have the psychic burden of hearing that she's dead.
I accept that my mom has died in that she was 78 and her health was in long decline. I've said all of my good-byes to her and soaked up her stories. In November, I sat with her in the hospital and we sang every standard both of us knew; songs as old as "Pennies from Heaven" and as new as "Close to You."
Neither of my parents ever accepted the deaths of their parents very well. My dad would spend Father's Day holed up in the bedroom trying to sleep through to Monday. My mom, always affable when drunk, would sometimes wail late at night and cry for her mom and dad.
This is how unprocessed grief ruins us. We go on the lam from the hurt, and it makes us look over our shoulder.
But my understanding of death has changed, too. It honestly doesn't seem so bad any more. I was always afraid of it--more so after my father died. I thought I was next, for sure. I could never imagine how someone could want to die the way, I think, my grandfather did when his time was up.
My buddy Mike's atheistic take on death sums up to this: When I'm dead, it will be like before I was born. There was nothing bad, frightening, or dreadful about that time, so why should death be any different.
I'm only now starting to see his point. Discounting the idea of going to Hell, which has always seemed logically implausible to me, death is, at its worst, like going to sleep.
Sleep well, Mama. I hope to see you again.
I feel at peace with my Mom's death. Partly I'm relieved that she's no longer confined to a bed with a stomach tube. I'm relieved that her health will no longer create havoc in my sister's life or discord between all of my siblings. I'm relieved to not have the psychic burden of hearing that she's dead.
I accept that my mom has died in that she was 78 and her health was in long decline. I've said all of my good-byes to her and soaked up her stories. In November, I sat with her in the hospital and we sang every standard both of us knew; songs as old as "Pennies from Heaven" and as new as "Close to You."
Neither of my parents ever accepted the deaths of their parents very well. My dad would spend Father's Day holed up in the bedroom trying to sleep through to Monday. My mom, always affable when drunk, would sometimes wail late at night and cry for her mom and dad.
This is how unprocessed grief ruins us. We go on the lam from the hurt, and it makes us look over our shoulder.
But my understanding of death has changed, too. It honestly doesn't seem so bad any more. I was always afraid of it--more so after my father died. I thought I was next, for sure. I could never imagine how someone could want to die the way, I think, my grandfather did when his time was up.
My buddy Mike's atheistic take on death sums up to this: When I'm dead, it will be like before I was born. There was nothing bad, frightening, or dreadful about that time, so why should death be any different.
I'm only now starting to see his point. Discounting the idea of going to Hell, which has always seemed logically implausible to me, death is, at its worst, like going to sleep.
Sleep well, Mama. I hope to see you again.
1 Comments:
I came here because of your half nano post on the nanowrimo website but your blog seemed so relevant to me I wanted to leave a comment. I've just come from a memorial service for the mother of a friend and the service made me think about how much I miss my mother who died 11 years ago. I still miss her so much and hearing how your parents missed their parents made me feel not so strange to still miss my mother. Also the speaker at the memorial service said something I thought was interesting. He said we all have an intellect and a will. What the intellect does is think. What the will does is make choices. Exactly what your will is has been difficult for me to get a grasp on, so this was helpful to me. And I'm glad to have some place to share it tonight.
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