I come from a very small family and my father died when I was five. Both my parents were only children and I am an only child as well. My mother and I were more like sisters/close companions in many ways and she raised me in a very liberal fashion. I was encouraged to explore and make my own choices throughout my development into adulthood and expected to deal with the consequences of my choices and/or mistakes as part of growing up. Tonight will be the tenth anniversary of my wonderful mother's death and I am looking back at the events and my subsequent writings as I celebrate a new year beginning and a decade of painful personal growth. This is not a political diary but one I wish to share with my DKos family in the hopes that there may be someone out there that may benefit from my emotional recollections on the loss of a loved one.
My mother moved from Bangor, ME in the mid-90's to Casper, WY as her job with the USDA Soil Conservation Service had been cut and she had a choice to take early retirement or a different position in another place. She had a few choices and the Casper WY position won out. She then worked for a few years and then once again was given an option for early retirement/settlement pkg or move. She took the early retirement option that time. Things had been ok until May of '99 when she ended up in the hospital for fluid retention and I flew out there from Portland OR to make sure she was ok. She came through ok and was pretty seriously trying to cut back her drinking and smoking and I made sure she had phone service, utilities paid up and stocked up on groceries approved by her doctor. But I had a retail management job to get back to so I couldn't stay nor did either of us want that. We kept in touch over the next 6 months or so but then in November I tried to call and her phone had been disconnected.
Instead of detailing more I will give you the essay I wrote in Feb of 2000 and self-published in a now-defunct zine I put out with some close friends.
MOTHER
Music, as always, is my refuge. It's been over two weeks since I lost my mother in a sudden mind swirling of events and I find myself growing more and more distanced from my life. Bits and pieces of memories and pictures I have stored in my mind appear to me at the most random times throughout the day and I take refuge from this storm in ethereal music. It is not, however, to escape: it is to strengthen those threads of memories and help them become cohesive. When I am at work (which I probably shouldn't be) I have no choice but to ignore the emotions I fleetingly feel. But when I get home I try to bring up the things I may have sensed earlier and bring them out so that they don't all gang up on me and overwhelm me at work when I have to deal with the public. You know, real people, strangers, idiots who couldn't care less what happened to my mother. But in the comfort of candlelight and my own home I find these moments when I can allow the emotions to surface and strengthen to the point of tears.
It's the random things that get me most: Last Friday at work, I had dressed in my usual morning haze and grabbed a chocolate brown blazer that matched my pants without thinking. A few hours later I was holding it in my hands, sitting in a chair in the back room staring at it thinking, "this is the last thing my mother ever bought for me." I felt like a door was suddenly shutting and I wanted to cry but I was at work and I knew if I gave in to that feeling I would not be able to go on working through the rest of the day. And now I realize the music I have chosen to listen to tonight has significance too. The Julia Fordham CD on the stereo is something I took home and played for my mom back when I was in college. She listened and immediately noted a similarity to Anita Baker. This started a long drunken argument about the differences between the two, which we finally gave up on. Yes, my mother was a great arguer. She would steadfastly hold to her opinion (even when she knew she was wrong) for hours just for the sake of arguing. She was the perfect example of the Libra/Scorpio cusp personality. Able to see both sides of the argument but stubborn as hell in sticking to the side she felt was right even with proof in front of her. I would finally give up just because I was exhausted from the discussion. When I told her I was performing a handfasting for some friends of mine and tried to explain it to her she just nodded and gave me a look that said, "Oh, it's just that witchcraft 'phase' you're going through." I always thought some day she would understand. I always wanted her to someday see the power and comfort I had found in being a witch... after all, she's the one who always told me that God was black, female and pissed off!
I have such vivid memories of my mother. I knew this wasn't long in coming, but nothing prepares you for the finality of death. I am so grateful for being able to see her a few months ago and to help her both financially and physically but I have that sense of guilt that any child has when a parent dies. If I had done ______ would she have lived longer? Then there is the anger. I had her convinced to move out here where I and other family members could take care of her, but at the last minute the money sucking leech who pretended to be her boyfriend reappeared in her life after disappearing for months, and she decided to go with him. I never could tell my mother what to do. It wouldn't have done any good. After all, she was the Great Arguer and she would do what she wanted to do. After my father died when I was 5, my mother went to business school and pursued her dream of running a nightclub. When that failed she went back to work as a secretary and took correspondence courses in computer programming and kept working her way up until she was able to keep up with the times. She made of her life what she could. She fell in love again only to lose that shortly thereafter and even though she wanted to kill herself she couldn't. But she always insisted she would be with the man she loved when she died. That's why I knew when she died she was finally where she wanted to be.
On New Year's Eve, 1999, I was woken early by a phone call. That phone call from the surgeon saying I needed to decide whether or not to keep my mother on life support. I knew what her wishes would be. There was no doubt. But I couldn't bring myself to make the decision. I gave her the opportunity to make that choice for herself. As me, my best friend and my roommate were celebrating the new millenium we made a toast: it was a wonderful toast to her and her life. I stared at her picture and admitted no, she did not get everything she wanted out of life, and no it was not wonderful; but she was a beautiful woman who did what she wanted and tried her best to succeed against the odds. She lived as best as she knew how and she made her own choices. In the end she made the final choice. About five minutes after we had finished our toast the phone rang and I learned that she had died at the moment we were toasting her. It is my heartfelt belief that she heard us and knew she could finally let go.
Goodbye mother, you were the best mother I could have had. You will live on forever in my heart and I know you are finally where you want to be. May you rest in peace and joy in the arms of the man you love. Someday we will meet again.
I really cannot believe it's been 10 years. Sometimes it feels like it was just a year ago and others like it was eons. My life has been so up and down and crazy. My mother's death was also during what astrologers refer to as the Saturn Return and while I'm not a big believer in astrology I do find some interesting things about natal charts and such so I find it interesting that the Saturn return is about the child becoming the adult. I know that with my mother's death I realized I was pretty much an orphan in many ways. My dad died when I was 5, my mom had just died, I was an only child of 2 only children. My closest relatives were grandparents and great-aunts/uncles. Most of whom were very far away from me and I didn't know them well at all.
Anyway,
It has now passed the actual 10 year time mark and I did indeed have a little shot of some special Absinthe that I got for my birthday to mark the occasion so before I get lost in ramblings I would like to share some of the poems I wrote shortly after my mom died.
Mum
I just realized
it's been a whole week now
that she's been gone.
But never gone.
I give pause
looking at the brown jacket-
the last thing
we bought together
for me.
On that last trip
the last time I saw her.
I can picture the fatigue
and pain on her face
when we'd been walking
for too long.
She sat on the chair
for a moment to catch her
breath in the store.
One week- quickly it's been
flying by, making my head spin.
Catch in the back of my throat
the tears behind my eyes
making my nose run.
Diane's
Mom's backyard parties
when she owned the bar;
everyone loved "Diane's".
They all loved Diane.
Lobsters on the grill
freely flowing beer.
Tails dipped in butter.
Steaks of pink-grilled
perfection
hot dogs and hamburgs
corn on the cob.
Even some "strange cigarettes".
Tons of people
to these little eyes
loud laughter and yells
cars honking "hellos"
as they passed by.
I watched them play ball
on the slope of the lawn
while up on the deck above
more drinks poured.
Neighbors looked down,
disapproved;
but not all the friends
we knew from the bar.
Midsummer heat fading
to evening cool.
Me, the "rugrat"
running between the adults
having my own sorts of fun.
Late summer nights
glowing cigarette tips
like fireflies on the lawn
down to the stream
at the edge of the yard.
Smells of dew on the grass
that was recently mowed.
Everyone loved "Diane's";
they all loved Diane
at our parties
in mum's backyard.
If you are still with me, I thank you.
On the actual night my mother died (12/31/99) at the stroke of midnight I had a CD cued up and ready and we popped a bottle of champagne as I hit play. This is the song that played and it has become a personal tradition for me that I play this song on NYE as close as possible to midnight. Unfortunately I cannot seem to find it on YouTube. But if you are so inclined please raise a toast tonight of your beverage of choice to Diane, my mom.
Fortune Presents Gifts not According to the Book by Dead Can Dance
Fortune presents gifts not according to the book
Fortune presents gifts not according to the book
When you expect whistles it's flutes
When you expect flutes it's whistles
What various paths are followed in distributing honours and possesions
She gives awards to some and penitent's cloaks to others
When you expect whistles it's flutes
When you expect flutes it's whistles
Sometimes she robs the chief goatherd of his cottage and and goatpen
And to whomever she fancies the lamest goat has born two kids
When you expect whistles it's flutes
When you expect flutes it's whistles
Because in a village a poor lad has stolen one egg
He swings in the sun and another gets away with a thousand crimes
When you expect whistles it's flutes
When you expect flutes it's whistles