My mom passed away almost two weeks ago.
The obituary I wrote for her can be read online.
Relationships with Moms are complicated, each of us for our own reasons. Mine was wrapped in trauma. Looking at pictures, the younger years of my childhood seemed pretty normal. As I approached a decade of life, my Dad’s alcoholism and other medical issues overwhelmed everything else, culminating in his death in 1997 when I was 12.
After that, things were different. She was overwhelmed with grief, trying to make sense of a boatload of conflicting emotions. She lost the love of her life, who was going through great pain and causing pain to those around him. She had a young son that she was now raising on her own. She never imagined needing to navigate life without my dad.
We made it through and were connected in ways that only people who go through fire together can be. And that in itself added complications. As I started having kids, I wanted her to be a certain way that she wasn’t. It took me a while to accept that she was the mom and grandmother that she was, and I couldn’t expect her to be anyone else.
I was dealt a good hand with marrying who I married, having the job I have with the insurance it has, and a society that treats mental health better than it used to. I have access to more mental health resources than the average person, and it has helped me immensely. I wished my mom had been open to that.
When her time came, it was truly beautiful.
She suffered a massive stroke. My grandmother’s first stroke was the first of very, very many and a very long, slow decline. My mom, though, it was evident that a stroke would lead to her end. Her speech was good enough, though, to converse once she was off pressurized air. Her memory was, overall, still there. It was a bit “glitchy”, but it was pretty solid.
Everyone who could come see her was able to while she was able to converse. She knew the end was coming and was at peace with it. We were able to say goodbye with her.
Her passing was remarkable; something I’ll write about in the future.
Relationships with Moms are complicated. Her final days were the opposite.
They were pretty simple. Simple presence.
Sitting for hours with nothing to do, but never bored.
Simple presence.
It was a gift.
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