First Day of Spring

It was a Saturday just like today, the first day of Spring 1982. It all came to a close when mom took her last breath around 11 a.m.

She had been in Intensive Care at Kaiser for the past month. Respiratory Failure as a result of late term Myasthenia Gravis. Mom wasn’t yet 62 years old.

I was there alone at the last and fortunately her death was quite peaceful. I was ‘prepared’ or at least thought that I was ready. What sticks with me though is the abandonment I felt as she withdrew her hand from my grasp there at the very end of it all. She was deep in a coma and although the act was purely random it stuck with me as the ultimate abandonment by a mother whose Love I had always questioned.

It was a blessing to see dad tenderly kiss her and goodbye. Their love had endured even though it wasn’t the easiest experience for either of them.

Now the formalities. The filing of the Death Certificate with its statement of facts, the arranging for mortuary services, the phoning of family and friends. Although it hadn’t been planned I insisted on a Memorial Service and arranged it myself following dad’s wishes. I talked Albert into reading the Eulogy I prepared and preparing a funeral sermon. More attendees than I expected and then the family gathering at my brother’s house. It was all very ‘tidy’.

The healing process was to take many years. Unresolved issues between mom and myself prevented closure for nearly 7 years. Finally with counseling advice and reading up on Grief Management I wrote a letter to my mother asking her forgiveness of my oversights, lack of compassion and understanding, and my disrespect.

I miss my mom. I miss her cooking. I miss her sense of humor. Hell, I even miss the agitation she caused to well up in me from time to time. Life is never the same once the person who shared your birth has left the planet.