I miss my mom. We were very close. She had a strong presences in my life. She passed away Dec 9, 2019. She went suddenly and she took us all by surprise. Strangely enough, I had been preparing for her passing since my father passed away 4 years earlier. What I mean by that is that when I found out my father was sick, the year before he passed, I started reading about death and dying. Given that I am a psychotherapist that isn't really an unusual choice since I often help people deal with loss and grief.
Just the week before my mother passed I had attended Stephen Jenkinson's Nights of Grief and Mystery Tour at the Harbourfront Theatre in Toronto orphanwisdom.com. He is a guy who spent many years working in and running Palliative Care programs. I was intrigued by the idea that a guy would talk about death backed by a band. I knew it wasn't going to be just another lecture and I was excited to attend. The event was magical if you can imagine that because he spoke very frankly but so poetically about death. He was supported on stage by Gregory Hoskin's band which was fantastic. Jenkinson's talk and Hoskin's music came together to create an atmosphere of warmth and intimacy. It was very powerful and I learned a lot. This tour was their way of trying to talk to us about this difficult topic, death.
In reading Jenkinson's book, Die Wise, I learned that our approach to death in this culture is that we have a "right to live" kind of attitude. While in some more traditional cultures there is a "grateful for another day" kind of approach to life. He says that the result, in this culture, is that we don't really have a healthy relationship to death. It is more of a demanding approach based on fear and denial. This means that when someone gets diagnosed with a terminal illness most of us don't know what to do, including the person who got the diagnosis. It is like we didn't know death would come for us. He says that most people want more time but he explains that this isn't more time to live, as people think, but more time to die. Once a terminal diagnosis is given we don't know how to live while we are dying. It requires a whole new mindset. My take away from Jenkinson in terms of death and dying is that we need to move closer to gratitude, away from fear and indignation that life is ending.
My mother, my eldest and I were staying in Toronto after Jenkinson's show. My wildly successful entrepreneurial nephew generously put us up in my mother's favourite downtown hotel. She loved the luxery of the place, a treat that she wouldn't give to herself. He had spent an afternoon, while I was at Jenkinson's event, boot shopping with her because I insisted she get boots with good treads for the winter. He good naturedly said that she had tired him out from going into two dozen stores, trying on boots, until she found what she wanted.
Once my mother, eldest and I regrouped we talked animatedly about Jenkinson's ideas about death and his belief that we live in a death phobic culture. We talked about how he said that we all know everyone else is going to die but we somehow think we are exempt. We all laughed about how true that was and my mother participated equally in this discussion. None of us were aware that her death was only just days away. She also insisted that weekend, dismissing my resistance, that we see the Christmas lights and the latest art works in the galleries in the Distillery District. I reluctantly booked the tickets and afterwards told her she was right to push her agenda. It was well worth the effort.
We laughed and had a lot of fun that weekend. We cheers my nephew with our hot beverages, for his generosity, a dozen times over the weekend as we went from one hotel restaurant to another. We were giddy like kids who had been told they had been granted a snow day, no school. One of my Toronto friends, who knew my mother, came to join us for coffee on the Saturday morning. She was familiar with Jenkinson's ideas about death and dying. I told her all about the event and so we all talked some more about death.
The weekend ended on a high note especially unusual for the dreary month of November. When we got back to my home my mother had decided to stay an extra day even though I had to return to work. That left her and my youngest to spend the day together. I went off to work and unbeknownst to me they took themselves off to the local art gallery, out for lunch, then to a movie and out for dinner. I was shocked when I got home late in the evening to find the house empty. They came rolling in laughing and telling me all about their adventures.
The following week I got a call from one of my mom's oldest friends to say that my mother had not shown up for her ride to bridge that morning. These friends acted quickly and found someone with a key. When they got into my mother's home they found her unable to communicate. They called an ambulance and the family.
Through a surreal haze I called other family members as I prepared to head to the hospital. When I arrived my eldest brother and his partner were there in Emergency with her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was laboured. It was a shock to see her like that of course. Through a stream of tears I listened to the doctor tell us that it was just a matter of time. We were moved to a private room and the family gathered at her bedside.
Two and a half days later my mom passed away from a stroke. We had been going back and forth to the Cancer Centre for the past few years to deal with her skin cancer issues. I figured that cancer would be the thing that she would eventually succumb to. The universe, however, had other plans.
I miss her of course, we all do, and my heart is broken. However, I am glad she did not have to cope with this most current worldwide health issue, the coronavirus. Given the incredible stress and fear that it has generated I can't help but think about what my mother would have said about it.
She was a very practical woman. She was very intelligent and well read. She had strong ideas and opinions. She was also very warm, open and curious. During our vigal at her hospital bedside some of us talked about how she was always interested in our lives. She didn't judge or dismiss our opinions or beliefs even if they were different from her own. She was a good listener.
I often consulted her for a reality check or advice about life decisions. She would listen and then tell me her thoughts without making me feel that I had to do it her way. Except when it came to visiting art galleries or events. She could be very persuasive when she wanted to do a thing, as all who knew her could probably atest.
She had an upbeat way about her which made her easy to be around. She was always engaged in life whether with her friends or family, current events, movies or books. She was wise and loved to laugh. These are some of the qualities I will miss. After my father passed she said it would be the way he made her laugh that she would miss the most.
Over the years we talked about so many things. She didn't talk much about her childhood though because of how hard these years had been. However, she did talk about how she lived in London, England, during WWII with bombs going off everywhere. She said that during those years not only were they frightened by the bombs but that they were terrified of Stalin. She talked about the horrors of Hitler, food shortages and the ration system.
There was a picture of her as a little girl sitting in a child's tin car on the front lawn of a house. She explained that it belonged to her young cousin who was bedridden inside that house sick with Tuberculosis, another pandemic. She marveled at how her mother was seemingly unaware of the potential danger to my mother's health. That was long before the information age of course.
Given all she had endured during her 88 years, I wondered what she would have to say about coronavirus? I think she would have felt the stress of course. I think she would have agreed that we need to take the precautions. She would have done her own research on this disease. She loved google. However, I think she would have encouraged us to take a step back and look at the big picture rather then get caught up in the fear. I think the impact of her early years gave her a sense of perspective. She managed to stay open despite all the dangers and challenges that she had to deal with in her life. Her sense of perspective and ability to stay open made her good at adapting to the ups and downs of life. Also, she was always full of gratitude and love. She never seemed to succum to fear. These is the lesson I think she would want us to get.
It is important to be grateful she would tell us. When we focus on that, fear takes a back seat. Gratitude keeps us open, gives us perspective, while fear shuts us down. In this information age it is hard to step back and get perspective. We are all bombarded with endless information which we need to stay healthy and stop the spread of this virus. However, constant information creates fear. Fear shuts us down and it prevents us from remembering to focus on love, to be open and grateful.
I think my mother would say that we need to remember how lucky we are to live in this country where we can have access to what we need. I think that she would say that we should be grateful that this is a common cause, a virus that we can all come together to deal with. I think that she would tell us to love, help, support and care for each other. I know she would promote a message of continuing to open, be grateful and to remember to laugh. She would tell us not to let fear cloud our judgment or take away our love of life. She never let anything stop her from living fully. She would tell us to look at the big picture and that we need to adapt to change even if it feels hard. It isn't that she didn't struggle but she knew how important it was to come back to staying open to the ups and downs of life. She was an incredible role model.
We hear you Mom. Thank you!
Love you and miss you, XO
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