Meditation, October 2023

Mourning My Mother's Passing

God Gifts Us With Tomorrow
~ t. loessin

Paulo Coelho writes, 

"We never lose our loved ones.
They accompany us;
never disappearing from our lives.
We are merely in different rooms now."

I had found those to be comforting words the first time I read them years ago.  Yet today when I read these three sentences I feel anger rising in me with each final period.  

"Never lose?" 
But I have. 

"Accompany us?" 
Not the same as before. 

"Different rooms?" 
What does that even mean?

I am familiar with the Stages of Grief first introduced by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book On Death and Dying and I can list them all in order.  I have certainly been aware of them as I've passed through them in recent weeks.  

Especially the anger and guilt.  "Did we do enough? Could we have done more? Should we have returned her, yet again, to the hospital's ICU?  Would it have made a difference?"

Grief is not a welcome emotion.  Uncomfortable.  Unsettling.  Reluctant to leave us no matter how much we try to rid ourselves of its mental and emotional weight.

Queen Elizabeth II is quoted as saying 

"Grief is the price we pay for Love."  

I also believe that one's level of grief is in proportion to one's level of affections for the departed.  

Thus, l
Wreath of Mourning
on front gate.
osing Mom has deeply rattled me, the control freak.  Doing that which I usually do to "deal with stuff" - staying busy and redirecting my focus - hasn't had its usual effectiveness.  

I can't seem to stay focused without my thoughts drifting to the void that now exists in my life.

A phrase spoken by someone --
and I drift away, no longer hearing anything more the person has to say;

or a song I hear playing --
and I don't dare sing along or I'll choke up; 

a tree that needs watering --
and damn if I don't find there embedded in the fork of its trunk one of her ceramic birds; 

a certain bowl I now use in my own kitchen that was a favorite she used in all those wonderful meals she made --
and suddenly I find myself hugging it closely to my chest;

in the silence I can only find out on my patio at midnight I happen to gaze up at the house that now sits empty at the far end of the property --
and I think I hear her voice calling to me...

No, no it can't be.  How could it be?

View Obituary 
I know then it's time for me to return inside my own little house and shut the door.  But if I lie down now to sleep, I'll never get there.  It's too quiet.  She's not up at the house.  She's not even in the nursing home anymore. 

Everything, everywhere has gone silent.  Empty.

This morning I wrote out more thank you notes to folks who made memorial gifts and, as I was straightening my desk preparing to walk away, I saw it.  Beneath my desk's glass top I have mementos and photos from special moments in my past.  And there was that slip of paper.  

In October 2011, the year I built my home here on the property beside Mom and Dad, Mom had come down to check on me as I was still unpacking boxes at midnight.

"Mom, what are you doing still up?" I asked as I opened the door.  

"I saw your light and figured you were still at it. I brought you a snack."

"Now Mom, we're not going to start this. I'm going to be up late many nights in the days to come. I don't expect you to be bringing me food just because I'm living beside you." 

"It's okay, but you need to get some rest."  

I remember we laughed about how much we were alike -- everything has to be done right away with us! And soon after, she left.

I emptied another box of glassware and, as I was removing the box from the counter, saw the covered plate she had left.  Taped to the top was a handwritten note.  I unfolded it and in her beautiful cursive script she had written 

"Relax Terry.
God gifts us with tomorrow."

I kept that note because it reminded me of her sending me to bed on school nights when growing up at home. She'd always say "You have to be at your best tomorrow," and then, in Czech, "Dobrou noc (good night)!"   

Mom was always the pragmatist - no matter what happened around her or to her, Mom carried on and moved on, doing whatever needed to be done in the moment.  And seeing that slip of paper under the glass now led me to hear Mom loud and clear, reminding me of her outlook on life once again. 


Yes Mom, "God gifts us with a tomorrow."  

And, thanks to you, I'll be getting up again tomorrow.

Thank you, Mom, for teaching me that and all of the important life lessons you taught me.  

"I will always love you."
-- Dolly Parton.

I would like to offer my heartful appreciation to all - family and friends - who attended Mom's Visitation and Funeral services, provided food and flowers at the service, sent beautiful cards and made loving memorials in honor of Mom.  

I am truly grateful for your thoughtfulness and expressions of sympathy.
Terry
_________________






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