Mother Dear
No one can prepare you for the death of your mother. I have thought about this many times over the last week. From the moment I received "the call" regarding my mom's tragic fall, to the conversation with my brother who informed me that she had passed away, six hours before I arrived to see her in the hospital. Much of what happened over the next few days was a blur. I couldn't think straight and I had a difficult time listening to others when they spoke to me directly.
What a strange thing to say at a moment like that. But no one prepares you for this. No one tells you what you should or should not say the first time you see your mother in a casket. What was the rest of my extended family doing just then? I don't know. I can hardly remember it already. I have been too busy trying to figure out what we are going to do next.
And in the midst of my fog, I found myself assisting with the selection of a coffin, purchasing an overpriced plot of land, gathering memorable photographs and still not believing that my mother was gone because I hadn't seen her yet.
Grief seemed to come and go, interspersed with comic relief and laughter. Such a strange combination of emotions. Then the funeral director asked me if I wanted to keep her glasses. If not, he would gladly donate them to the Lions Club. Would I mind if some of the flowers were taken to the grave site?
I don't know. Sure. Let me ask my siblings what they think.
And then I finally saw her. Sort of. The flood of tears and uncontrollable sobs blurred my vision and almost prevented me from looking. But there she was. And she looked more beautiful than I remembered.
"They did such a good job."
What a strange thing to say at a moment like that. But no one prepares you for this. No one tells you what you should or should not say the first time you see your mother in a casket. What was the rest of my extended family doing just then? I don't know. I can hardly remember it already. I have been too busy trying to figure out what we are going to do next.
My dad can't live alone! But he can't live with me in Canada either. And my sister's house has too many stairs. My brother flies home in a few days and we have to figure this out! There isn't enough time to make these decisions.
"Do I go home? Do I quite my job and move back to the States? What about my Canadian status? And what about my future? I'm not even eligible for social security benefits in the States anymore!"
I think I'll watch the Oscars. They are on TV tonight. My brother likes the Academy Awards. We can watch them at my dad's place so he's not alone tonight.
Someone should have prepared me for this. At least I think they should have. But who? I don't think anyone gets prepared for this.
Wait.
The service was perfect. The tributes were special. The pastor's message was encouraging.
And my mother's passing and funeral will forever be etched in my memory.
So perhaps I really didn't need preparation. Perhaps this is the way it is supposed to happen. Maybe the busyness and distractions were helpful - or even a way to prepare me for a once in a lifetime experience. An experience that you never look forward to, but experience regardless.
Although I remain terribly sad I believe my grief is part of the whole process. I do experience comfort in the midst of my pain and I am grateful for the prayers and support of my family and friends.
But mostly I miss my mom.
And I stand firm in my faith that assures me that one day I will see her again.
This entry was posted
on Sunday, March 07, 2010 at 10:53 PM.
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11:08 PMPaul,
I grieve with you. Losing your Mom is very difficult. I remember well the busyness of funeral arrangements and nothing seeming real.
Are you moving back to the US to take care of your Dad?
Take comfort in knowing that she is being well cared for by her Heavenly Father!
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