Birth

During the last several days of my Mom's suffering I was reminded of the process we go through as women when we are laboring to bring forth a baby. Many times at Mom's bedside I caught myself feeling just as I have before while helping a dear friend labor.

It felt odd when I connected those two experiences; birth and death. But the more I think about it and the closer I get to my own journey to heaven, the more I realize they are very similar.

When you watch a woman, someone you love laboring, you wish you could carry her pain. But,you know it is her journey alone to make. You stand near, you watch and pray. You sing and offer comfort as she tries to breathe through her pain. You watch and wait and cry and hold her hand and rub her back and you pray some more. You help her to be brave. And you wait with her.

Then when it is time, when the hard labor is over, you watch the new life as it comes into the world.

That's how it was when Mom died. She labored. At the end of her labor she saw heaven. We who were her midwives got a glimpse of Heaven through her eyes. I believe what she was was as bright and blinding as a newborn's first vision of this earth.I will share that story soon.

I found this beautiful video on a friend's blog recently. It is a woman who is singing as she is laboring to bring forth her 10 pound son. She is singing the 23rd Psalm. I hope when it is my turn to complete the labor of this life I will be able to sing like she does.

Holidays - Thanksgiving

I was talking with someone recently about Thanksgiving. They had also lost a parent recently and were dreading being with the rest of the family for Thanksgiving.

Today I wish I could travel to be with my extended family for this holiday. I would like to be with them. Some of them knew my Mom even better than I did. Her brothers and sister grew up with her. I would like to share my grief with them. I wouldn't have to explain how I feel, they would just know.

My brothers understand how I feel. So does my stepdad.

Somehow it seems they connect me to her.

Today my grief feels like longing. Longing for connection. Longing for what could have been. Just longing. It is like a big empty place. I don't know how to fill it. Maybe I am not supposed to, I dunno.

Here is a butterfly that I know Mom would have loved. It was her favorite color.

Luna Treasures

Mom could tell you what this is a picture of....


Last night I had a hard time sleeping so it's appropriate that I share a picture of one of the beauties of the night. Luna moths don't live where I do now, but as a kid finding a Luna Moth was something pretty special. I only remember seeing a couple in my lifetime.

I hope I will soon find some Luna Treasures in this dark night of grief.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow....

Goodbye Mom

This is a post that I wrote for my Family blog... I have copied it in order to have it here too.

This July I received the phone call that no daughter ever wants to get. My mom was rushed to the hospital with pneumonia, and in the course of treatment it was discovered that she had lung cancer. What followed for me was two and a half months of travelling back and forth between Idaho and Ohio, trying to take care of Mom, praying that my own family would be OK without me, and always wishing I could be more and do more for everyone that I hold dear.

What followed for Mom must have seemed like a whirlwind... no, a tornado.

Her battle with cancer was brief and she was a warrior, not believing until the last days that she was in a battle that she couldn't win.

I took her to many of her doctor's appointments and when Mom's hair started falling out we made matching butterfly hats. We called them our "Traveling hats". The couple of days we spent making these hats is the fondest memory I have of my mother.

By the time these hats were finished, they were totally covered with glittering butterflies.

Mom celebrated her 63rd birthday on August 13th. She always believed that the number thirteen was lucky on account of her being born on the 13th. Sometimes she would call me on Friday the 13th to remind me what a lucky day it was...

Her beloved lap dog Buddy passed away 2 weeks before her cancer diagnosis, and her other dog Alex is elderly and in failing health. For Mom's birthday, with aunt Janet's help, I was able to find a Shitzu puppy. I worried that he would be too much for Mom, tripping her and tearing up the house as puppies are wont to do. But, it was love at first sight.

The little bundle of black and white downy fur was promptly named "Furby", because... well, he looks like a Furby!


Towards the middle of September I came home to Idaho. Mom only had five or six more treatments left in her radiation and chemo regimin. She was tired and weak, but was looking forward to a respite from the daily trips to Sandusky. She had plans to winterize her flower beds and to play and sleep all day with her beloved Furby.

I came home on Friday and on Sunday Morning I recieved a call that Mom had been rushed to the ER with difficulty breathing. She had pneumonia again. This time it had struck in her good lung, the one without cancer. It was a cruel blow.

I flew out the next day and for the next two weeks stayed by Mom's side as much as I was able. She fought valiantly for her life.

One night I sneaked her beloved Furby into the ICU. I wrapped him up in a blanket, disguised as a baby wrapped in a blanket.


The expression on her face was priceless... she wasn't expecting to see him. He was such a great comfort to her. I wish we could have kept him there for the night.

Soon Mom was on a ventilator with a trach tube and was moved to another hospital. She always tried to keep a smile on all of our faces, including the nurses. I think she hated seeing Our sadness on account of her suffering.

No, I know she hated it.

My brother Chris brought her an Ohio State hat with dreadlocks on it. He told her it was her "hair" and she loved it. She surprised him by wearing it one morning, much to all of our delight.

All to soon, in spite of everything the doctors were trying to do for Mom, her pneumonia began winning the battle. It was a sad day for all of us when we called Hospice to ask for help in taking her home... but it was a happy one for Mom. She was tired of the hospital and the nurses and the struggling. She wanted to see Furby and Alex and her cats. She wanted to go home. I think she was scared to die, but one morning she told me she wanted to go see "Grandma." Grandma is her mom who passed away a few years ago. She wanted to go Home to be with her Mom.

We brought Mom home that night and she was home for 3 days before she went to heaven.

I know that she went to heaven because right before she left us she opened her eyes wide and had a conversation with Someone, actually several Someones. We couldn't hear what she was saying on account of her trach tube, but she talked for no less than an hour. Her face was full of wonder and joy. We read her lips as she said things like, "Wow!!" "Yes I am ready to go, now." and "Who??". It seemed to us that she was being introduced to people and at one point she patted Joe's arm and we could read her lips saying, "Yes, Joe..." She tried to get up several times as if she were trying to follow her heavenly guests.

After about an hour she fell asleep, her breathing slowed down and she was gone.


I brought her Bible home with me to Idaho. I bought it for her when I went 1000 miles away to college as a teenager. The inscription reads:

"Mom, remember that if I am far away or I am near to you, I love you a whole lot."

I still feel that way Mom, and I believe that if you could send down a message from heaven to me, that's what you would say to me too.

I love you Mom.

Your favorite daughter,

Char

People Don't Really Wanna Know...

... how I am doing.

This is something that has surprised me... I've had a lot of people whom I haven't seen since I left 3 months ago say, "I am so sorry to hear about your Mom. How are you doing?"

Then when I start explaining how I am really doing, they get a faraway look on their face and their eyes glaze over. Sometimes they have even changed the subject mid sentence.

Thankfully, my very closest friends and family members do usually take time to listen. But now, I usually just give the standard (expected) reply, "I am fine, how are you?"

I don't know if people really don't care, can't relate or that they are afraid that hearing about my grief will touch the grief they have in their own lives. Maybe it is a mixture of all those things? I haven't gotten my feelings hurt (yet) but it is such a puzzle to me when people who normally would listen to me whine for hours on end about much less important things can only take my grief in such small doses.

Mostly I just need people to listen. Just let me say out loud what I am feeling. Don't judge me, and don't feel like I am asking for you to fix me. Somehow telling my story out loud takes the edge off the pain. Just look into my eyes, sit with me and listen.

Mom loved butterflies more than anything. Her home was full of them... I have decided that since I will soon run out of pictures of her to post, I will start collecting butterflies. Enjoy.

Tiger Swallowtail

Jesus Help Me

Jesus Help Me

In every need, let me come to You
with humble trust, praying:
Jesus, help me!
In all my doubts, perplexities, and temptations:
Jesus, help me!
In hours of loneliness, weariness, and trials:
Jesus, help me!
In the failure of my plans and hopes, in disappointments, troubles, and sorrows:
Jesus, help me!
When others fail me and Your Grace alone can assist me:
Jesus, help me!
When I throw myself on Your tender Love as Savior:
Jesus, help me!
When my heart is cast down by failure, at seeing no good come from my efforts:
Jesus, help me!
When I feel impatient and my cross irritates me:
Jesus, help me!
When I am ill and my head and my hands cannot work and I am lonely:
Jesus, help me!
Always, in spite of my weakness, falls, and shortcomings of every kind:
Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
help me and never forsake me.
Amen.

One of the Hospice guys gave me a booklet called, "Book of Healing Prayers". This is one of the prayers that has given me much comfort.

Travelin' Hats

This is the story of the hats.

Early on in my Mom's treatment her chemo started causing her hair to fall out. She was pretty distressed about this because it didn't start falling out until 2 weeks after her treatment. She thought maybe she was going to be one of the lucky ones who get to keep their hair.

One day she came out of the bathroom upset because she had just combed her hair and the sink was now full of hair. Wanting to try to cheer her up I walked into the bathroom and cut most of my medium length hair off.



Mom was shocked when I walked out of the bathroom and said to her, "Dang Mom! I went into the bathroom and a bunch of my hair fell off too!"

We decided that day to make matching hats.

Making those hats is the best memory I have of my Mom. She went right into action gathering up materials to make "Travelin' Hats". Out came her butterfly collection. We robbed jewelry, pins and whatnots of their butterflies to pin and sew on our hats.

MOM'S HAT

We spent the rest of the day and part of the next putting them together. Sitting there with her on the bed surrounded by our mess we talked about the butterflies and where she had collected each one from. Some were precious to her. One was given to her by her deceased sister, one from the Hospice who cared for her father. One was a pin I had sent to her years ago.

Focusing on the hats let her forget about the cancer for the day. Focusing on the hats helped me to forget about our troubled relationship for the day. We had a lot of fun. I believe we formed a connection that day, even if we didn't talk about anything serious or work through any issues. We were just both girls having fun with a project. Together.

CHAR'S HAT

We wore our hats to all of Mom's appointments and whenever we went somewhere together. The hats became a symbol of our relationship. The more people noticed our hats the less Mom seemed to worry about her hair.

One of our favorite things was to go to thrift shops. I talked Mom into trying on a lot of hats. I wish I had taken more pictures.




I wore my hat to Mom's funeral. Hers was on her casket near her head. Anyone who knew us didn't have to ask what they were.

Who Was My Mother?

Wow. What a complex question. My mother and I had a rocky relationship. I never really understood who she was and I know that she never really understood who I am.

The heaviest burden of my sorrow is that now we will never really "know" one another this side of Heaven. The desire of every daughter is for her mommy to know her heart. That never happened for me, but I always held out hope that it would someday happen.

There just wasn't enough time in this life I guess. I thought that I had made peace with this reality; that she would never understand my heart. I thought that my "grown-up" relationship with Mom was enough. But my heart tells me that it wasn't and so I feel I have a double loss to grieve.

One thing that I do know is that I tried to be the best daughter I could and I think Mom tried her best to be a good mother too.

More time. Maybe that's what we needed was more time. Maybe had she survived the pneumonia we could have had a meeting of the minds while she battled the Cancer monster. Maybe.

There are many things that happened in the last few months that gave me a window into my Mother's soul. I hope to remember them here in this blog as I walk along. There are some things that I don't want to forget.

Mom was born on August 13, 1945 to Ralph and Charlotte. She grew up on a farm and married her high school sweetheart and my Father. I was born a year later and then my first brother was born 3 years after that.

After 13 years of what she called "hell" she divorced my Father and remarried. She had my second brother a year after her remarriage.

Mom was a homemaker for most of her life. She stayed home to be with us kids and when I was a little girl she was my 4H leader, Girl Scout helper and my brother's Cub Scout leader. When my second brother was in high school she headed up the cheering moms for wrestling.

There are a lot of troubled years I could mention here but I won't because for now I don't want to define her life by her weaknesses.

I know that she loved butterflies. Her house and her life was full of them. She also loved her pets. I think she sometimes related to the animals in her life better than the people in her world. I know this because I have inherited that gift too.

She loved her second husband. I believe he loved her too, perhaps more deeply than I have ever imagined before now. They were married for, wow, I don't even know... was it 30 some years?

I believed she loved us kids too, and she cherished her grandkids.

On July 18, 2008 she was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer during a hospitalization for pneumonia. She chose treatment and had radiation and chemo for what was to be the rest of her life. She was almost finished with that schedule when she developed pneumonia again. She wasn't able to beat the pneumonia and passed away at her home on October 8, 2008. She had just celebrated her sixty-third birthday.

Ironically, she died on the very day that would have been her last radiation treatment.

Things I'll Never Forget

With my Mom's death so fresh and new (it has not been a month yet), there are so many things I feel I will never forget. Even if I wanted to forget, the memories push their way forward unbidden onto the video screen of my consciousness. I can only hope that with time and healing some of the sting will lessen.

The memory that keeps appearing today occurred on the day that Mom really understood that she was dying, and that she had days or maybe just hours to live. The doctor was there with us, telling her that her pneumonia was not responding to treatment. She started crying and then went into respiratory distress. We thought we were going to lose her that day. She told us she wanted to go home and I asked her if it was okay to call Hospice to help us. She said "Yes."

She was in so much physical distress that I didn't think she would stabilize enough that day for me to make that wish come true for her. I have never wanted to do something for a person so badly in all of my life. I felt that if I had to carry her home in my arms I would have done it.

But, she surprised us all, calmed down and her vital signs stabilized. I made the Hospice call. That afternoon while we were waiting for Hospice to come I was alone with Mom in her room. She asked me, "Am I dying?"

I am so glad I was there for her but I hated, and I still hate it, that I was the One she asked.

I said "Yes, Mom you are dying."

"How long?"

"I don't know Mom. Probably a few days, maybe a week. Your medicine isn't working anymore. I'm sorry."

She struggled to sit up in bed and leaned over and put her elbows on her knees. Holding her skinny arm and bony fist raised she said, "I am just so angry."

"I am just so angry."

Her words were without sound as the trach tube had stolen her voice by this time, but I had no trouble hearing her scream.

I'll never forget the look on her face as the reality of it all sank in for the first time. Anger and Despair formed a grotesque mask. It is a sight that I hope I never have to see on another human being, much less a loved one.

The reality of my own mortality came crashing in on me that day. Telling my Mom that she was dying and will die soon; and then being powerless to do anything at all about it was crushing.

The Beginning of My Intentional Walk

I have some regret for two things I have done. One is my failure to journal through the illness and death of my mother, and two is the compartmentalizing my grief. Although I regret both things, I know my emotional survival has depended on what my mind would call a failure. I have lived long enough to know that I must allow my heart to win such battles.

Now my heart says it is time to begin and the mind is reluctant. I know I must take one small step at a time. There is no map, no GPS. I am not sure where the path will lead although I have been told by others there is a sort of healing and a lessening of pain along the way. Today I believe that. Yesterday I didn’t believe. Who knows if tomorrow will support that belief.

I am surprised by how unpredictable is this thing called grief. Some feelings were expected; sorrow, pain and anger. But, I didn’t expect simple things to trigger my feelings; a pair of shoes, a calendar, a happy memory.

Even in reaching out to others I feel alone. I have decided to take myself by the hand. I hope that the wisdom of my short years will be enough to serve as a guide. I have faith that Faith will be a strong tower.