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Nine years ago today, the SF Coroner's office took possession of my 49-year old mother's body. It isn't clear exactly when she died. Phone records indicated she called her father for Father's Day. It took them a few days to find me (I had moved to Austin, Texas and my mother did not update her emergency contact information), so June 21, 1999, was just another day to me. I got up, went to work, ate, and slept in ignorant bliss. I remember making this argument to my therapist - that because I didn't have a reaction to the event when it happened, then it was really senseless to have a reaction now. Grief makes you say (and do) crazy things.
I found out on a Friday night. It was probably around 9pm. I was watching AbFab on the couch in my nightgown. I was tired from a long week at work. My house needed some tidying. What would have otherwise would have been a forgotten night, changed when the doorbell rang. It was the police.
B said he knew right away why they were there. But even when the officer said that it was in regards to my mother, I never went there. I figured she was in trouble of some sort, maybe locked up in a mental hospital at worse, but not dead. I hit the first phase of grief before the words were even out.
And once the words were out, I lost it. I started screaming. Wailing, almost. It was so bad the officer asked B if I had asthma, and was having an attack.
That insanity was broken by the phone ringing. Who could be calling at this hour, on a Friday? It was B's mother. For some reason I answered the phone. I must have been nearest or somehow thought that someone was going to tell me this was all a joke - a very bad one. This was the last person I wanted to talk to. She asked me how I was. I managed to say, not good and passed the phone to B. He took the call in the other room, never telling his mother was was going on in our living room. Yes, he did not mention that my mother was dead.
The officer left. He was accompanied by a woman who I guess was a social worker. I don't know. Her job was basically to give me the information I needed to deal with the body. She said that I could talk to the coroner's office if I had any questions. Actually I had to call them. All I wanted to ask, but didn't, was what kind of questions might those be? I had lots of questions, but I didn't think they were probably appropriate for the coroner.
In talking with this woman, whose name I don't recall, and who most likely I could not pick out of a line up to save my life, my sister came up. In irony of ironies, the last piece of correspondence I received from my mother was a postcard with my sister's address (and the request that I send my estranged sister money for an air conditioning unit). This woman explained that she could have someone go and share the news with her. What she didn't say was that said person would go post haste. My sister was in the eastern time zone, and ended up be awoken by the police at 3am local time. This caused her to call me quite pissed off about the whole incident (not that our mother was dead) as soon as they left.
By this time I had spoken to the coroner's office. I learned that I needed to make arrangements for my mother's body. I also talked to my mother's brother in California, who agreed to tell their father and other siblings. I also talked to his wife, my aunt, who had been friends with my mother since they were 13. She lost it on the phone. My first call was actually to my friend, and former high school teacher, who is a nun. She knew my mom too, and was able to help me figure out a plan of attack, so to speak.
My sister passed over the fact that we hadn't spoken to each other on the phone in about a decade. It didn't even phase her that the last time she had contacted me, she sent me email pretending to be an adopted 17-year old girl from Maine. I actually had a hunch that it was a hoax, but when I told B he said I was paranoid. He wasn't overly amused when my hunches turned out to be correct and she revealed her identity over IM. She was plain angry that I gave her address to the police. This was the purpose of her call - to tell me off!
When I was able to get her on track - our mother was dead, remember - things went downhill pretty quickly. She felt that the body should be cremated and the ashes scattered on the Golden Gate Bridge. [That is totally illegal, by the way.] My mother had disowned my sister when she was 15 and sent her to live with her paternal grandmother. They hadn't seen each other since she was 17 at a lunch which I also attended. They had made some contact recently, but my mother's brain was so pickled, that it is hard to call it a reconciliation. I can't recall how the call ended, but by that point I was completely spent. Life as I knew it would never be the same, and now I had to deal with all this craziness to boot. I wanted to just stay up all night, but B insisted I at least try and sleep.
I woke up the next morning, and B insisted we try and take his car in for service. I followed him in my car, and was not thrilled with the idea of being alone. I remember asking not to be left alone. As it turned out the service center was closed, so we went back to the house and carried on with the day in one car.
We also needed to stop by the office (he had to work), and I had an eye appointment later that afternoon. I believed that canceling it would anger my mother, so didn't call and try to reschedule. In truth, I didn't want to have to say why I needed to cancel.
First, though, we had lunch. We went to this sort of Irish Pub called Faddo. It is actually a chain. There is one in Chicago too. I remember going to the pay phone and calling my therapist to see if he could see me. I had to leave a message, and just said "something bad happened". I didn't have a cell phone, and so had to leave B's office number.
After lunch, which I didn't eat, we went to the office. Technically I worked there too, but part-time, as a contractor. Still, I had no idea what to do with myself. The CEO, my boss, was in, so I went to his office and broke down. I couldn't get the words out before the tears were streaming down my face. He handled it well. He said I could take any time I needed. I think he was a little surprised we were there, but also grateful as there was a release deadline looming. Somehow word did not spread, and so despite it being an office of about a dozen people, many of them had no idea that this happened while I worked there. Ah, life at a start up in the days before the dot boom.
It was then time for the eye doctor. It was a busy Saturday. They left me in the exam room by myself for a few minutes. I just sat there and cried. I was so afraid someone would ask what was the matter with me. Thankfully no one did, because I think I would have lost it.
I arrived at my therapist's office with my eyes still dilated. I remember the first thing I told him was that I had just been to the optometrist, and that I didn't look this bad because I had been crying uncontrollably since I learned about my mother's death.
Over the course of the next few days, things went from crazy to insane. My mother's siblings on the east coast had at one point tried to steal my mother's body. They felt she should be buried with their mother in a Catholic cemetery in New Jersey, and that I should foot the bill for an Irish wake complete with free-flowing alcohol. I guess they forgot that my mother had just lost her life to alcoholism. What they didn't even take into account was that my mother was converting to Judaism. I was never able to determine how far she had gotten, but at one point she had made arrangements at a Jewish cemetery. She later asked for her money back, and when I called in inquire was met with "you don't have a Jewish name" and basically told to get lost.
In the end, my mother was cremated and buried in the same plot as her mother (and her father and his second wife and possibly my sister). There was a funeral at the church of the Catholic school my sister and I attended for a year. This was the same place where after meeting with the principal, and learning what my sister (who was in first grade at the time) was up to, left the meeting and passed out on the front steps of the school, blocking out what she had been told because it was so awful.
I did not attend the funeral. I can only imagine what this group of people said about a woman they didn't know. About a woman who when she was able, helped out her siblings in every way she could, but when she tried to get her life back, they turned their back on her. I am sure it was a giant guilt festival -something my mother would have hated - but I felt like she probably wouldn't have attended unless it was for the humor of it all.
My aunt and uncle in California did go to the funeral home, but didn't attend the funeral either. They pushed the button for the cremation, and then went across the street to an Irish pub to toast her. I ended up in that same pub when we returned to the Bay Area after B got his MBA. There was a gathering of the interns summering in San Francisco, and we met up at a bar in North Beach . When that got too crowded, we moved the party. We walked a few blocks to Green Street, and as we turned the corner, I realized where we were, even though I had never been there. And there we were in the bar my Aunt described. I freaked out a bit, but somehow got though that night too.
on the night stand :: Motherless Mothers
x-posted to my blog
~Stop making that face!!! If the wind changes it'll stay that way. ~Don't swallow your gum; your belly will stick together. ~If everyone jumped off a cliff? Would you do it, too? ~Close that door! Were you born in a barn? ~Don't put that in your mouth; you don't know where it's been! LOL............ Motherhood - it's a tough job!! Probably the toughest job there is!! Are we overprotective? Do we pamper our children too much? Do we know how to set limits? Do we punish too much? Too little? It's tough to walk that fine "somewhere-in-the-middle" line. Throughout the years, I have questioned myself as a mother, many times. I wanted to be perfect for my girls!! I wanted them to have so much more than I ever had. And more importantly, I wanted them to never look back and feel unloved...not even for a moment. But of course, like most Mother's, I am not perfect. I have definitely made my mistakes. But I did the best I could! My only hope is that my "best" has been ....enough. Today - Mother's Day - my oldest daughter - a journalist -dedicated her column to me. There are no words to express how deeply her words touched my heart. While reading her column I discovered that perhaps my best WAS enough!!! It was enough to turn two beautiful daughters into two amazing young women. Young women who understand that love is not about perfection. It's about imperfection. It's about loving each other anyway. Anyone can love during the good times, but it's through the bad times that loves strength shows through. I am so proud of my daughters!! They are my greatest joy and my greatest blessings. It's hard to believe that in a few short years, they will become mothers themselves.
Belated Happy Mother's Day to you all!!
Enjoy...........
We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family". "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a caesarian scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . . that of being a Mother.
...Author Unknown
One of the things I find difficult about being online is that I have Mother's Day twice a year.
This year Mother's day was celebrated in the UK (where I live) on 02-March as it is always exactly 3 weeks before Easter Sunday.
Then today is the US Mothers Day, which is ubiquitous on-line. Sigh.
No, I don't begrudge the American motherless daughters their sorrow, I just kinda wish I didn't feel almost as bad today as I did in March, just 4 days before my birthday.
Zen Hugs to everyone. These are the hugs I would give each of you if you were here or I was there. But we too are seperated if only by the virtual distance of computing, so they have to be zen hugs.
Take care, Monday will be here soon.
Originally posted to Momlessdaughter, a community for those women who have lost their mothers.
The other day, while Drew and I were shopping, we happened to pass by an exercise department. We stopped and had a look through the exercise equipment...and there it was....an elliptical trainer.
I have always wanted one.
It was beautiful. It was exactly what I wanted. And...It was 50% off!!
But even at 50% off it was a little more than my pocketbook could handle. So instead, we looked at it for awhile. I dreamed a little. Then we came home.
That night after dinner, Drew went off to the firehall, and I cleaned up the dishes. About an hour later Drew returned.
He came into the house. I was sitting on the couch. He had a piece of paper and a booklet in his hand.
"I found this on the ground outside" he said. "It has your name on it"
"Mine? What is it"
"I dunno...Come get it", he said.
I walked over, took the booklet and paper from him.
It was the receipt and booklet for the elliptical trainer we had been looking at.
"Surprise," he said.
He had bought it for me.
I didn't know what to say.
As we loaded it out of the truck and into the exercise room, I asked him how he could afford to buy it.
"I took the money I was saving to rebuild my motorcycle. You are more important." he said
" But you spent months saving that money"
"I know...but the smile on your face when you looked at that receipt meant more to me than any bike rebuild"
I was floored.
As I looked at the elliptical trainer I couldn't help but wonder what meant more to me. The fact that he went out of his way to surprise me, or the fact that he delayed a dream of his to help fulfill one of mine.
What have you lost that you wish you still had?
Submitted by gunderson bee.
My mom. She passed away in June of 2005. My third baby was born just 5 months after she passed away. I think she was the happiest Grandma on Earth. She never put pressure on us to have kids, but when we finally did I know she was elated. I was her only child and therefore, my two children were her only grandchildren. She loved them to bits. She was so active and interested in their lives. Everyday I see my children through her eyes and I can almost hear her laughter at the cute and funny things they do. I carry her with me in my heart, but I miss her more than words can describe.
Thanks everyone for your positive thoughts and prayers for Sheila, my sister-in-law's mother. She lasted a few days longer than was expected earlier in the week. She passed away at 10:15 this morning. Hopefully she is now hanging out with my mom. My niece and nephew no longer have any grandmas left here on earth :(
Another fun Thanksgiving, full of feasting and family. It never hits me until after, though. You know, how I miss my mom.
For those of you who have never lost a parent (especially the parent you're closest to), imagine never being able to see, hear, talk to, visit, or call your parent. Ever.
Shouldn't time make this easier to bear? Shouldn't I feel better after the years, not worse? I still cry at least once a week. I still ache. I still think about her every day. Every. Day. Wishing I could ask her advice, or know a recipe, or hear one of her stories. Wishing I could feel her hug once more, or look at her doodling on a pad of paper while she takes a call. Wishing I could get her just one more Jamba juice.
When does it get easier? When does it get better? When will the feelings of overwhelming sadness and loss finally become manageable?
There is an ache in my soul that won't go away.
There is a love missing from my life that no one can replace.
I know I've posted this song before, but it is one of my favorite songs (always has been).
Dust in Wind
Kansas
only for a moment
and the moment's gone
All my dreams
pass before my eyes
a curiosity
Dust in the wind
all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song
just a drop of water
in an endless sea
All we do
crumbles to the ground
though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
all we are is dust in the wind
Now, Don't hang on
nothing lasts forever
but the earth and sky
It slips away
and all your money
won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
all we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
everything is dust in the wind
Be a Queen.
Dare to be different.
Be the kind of woman who, in the face of adversity, will continue to embrace life and walk fearlessly toward the challenge.
Take it on!
Be a truth seeker and rule your domain, whatever it is - your home, your office, your family - with a loving heart.
Be a Queen.
Be tender.
Continue to give birth to new ideas and rejoice in your womanhood.
My prayer is that we will stop wasting time being mundane and mediocre.
We are daughters of God - here to teach the world how to love.
It doesn't matter what you've been through, where you come from, who your parents are - nor your social or economic status.
None of that matters.
What matters is how you choose to love, how you choose to express that love through your work, through your family, through what you have to give to the world....
Be a Queen.
Own your power and glory.
author unknown
I just found out that my sister-in-law's mother, Sheila, who is the late stages of lung cancer and in the hospital, is most likely not going to last the day. My sister-in-law flew into Vancouver (if you remember, they moved out east in the summer) last night to be with her mom.
My poor sister-in-law was extremely upset when my mom passed away 6 years ago and now she is loosing her mother. Sheila has 5 children, 14 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren.
My mom always included Sheila, her husband and family, into our family when my sister-in-law and brother got married over 14 years ago. Sheila has always been as big as nothing and through the cancer she has had the strongest, most crushing hug ever. She has always been one of my many "moms" and its so sad that we are losing another mother. Why do so many woman go first?
Your prayers and positive energies would be much appreciated for my sister-in-law and her family during this tough time.
Thank you!
Do not pass go.......Every woman needs to watch this and pass this along to all their woman relatives and friends. I never knew this either.
