This is a sad day for me. I lost whom I consider to be the most influential person in my life on this day nine years ago. Can it truly be nine years already? My soul finds this difficult to believe.
My mother died September 21, 1995. This was the day I came to dread as I got older yet knew the inevitable would occur. When it happened I was certainly not prepared. Are any of us ever prepared? Is this possible? There's no good, convenient time to die for anyone. The passing years have softened the blow and eased the pain which is how things should be but those feelings are still there and shall be until the end of my life. I felt so lost without her--the mere knowledge of her presence--for such a long time.
It was my mother's death that taught me that we do not weep and grieve for those who die; it is for ourselves that we feel such despair and misery. I don't think I ever realized that before. Nothing matters any longer to those who have passed on to the next phase of existence, whatever that may be. It is those who are left behind, deprived of the company, joy, delight and wisdom of he or she who has died. For the longest time, I sincerely believed that I couldn't or wouldn't want to continue to exist in this world without my beloved parent. Thankfully, the passage of time works as a gentle healer and life does continue its normal progression.
Life continues because it must. I wasn't a little child when my mother died, after all. I was a grown, married woman of 42 with a husband and two children and a home of my own to tend. I felt as if I'd been cut adrift and had lost the wisest counsel and comfortable mantle of unconditional love I'd ever known. When my father died five months later, I often wondered if a person my age would be considered an orphan. At times, I felt like one. With the loss of one's parents, there is no longer a continually flowing fountain of wisdom to seek and derive solace from when life gets tough and the little dinghy in which you were cast adrift into the real world gets tossed about in a rough tempest.
We had a private outdoor service with family and friends for my mother five days following her death. Her obituary notice represented her very well:
...an R.N. from Montreal General Hospital and homemaker for over 56 years and a resident of __________ for over 19 years. A lover of music and literature and was also a life-long avid gardener who enjoyed great success with hybrid bearded iris. A woman of magnetic personality, independent spirit and great personal charm, wisdom, humor, strength and optimism and was a source of admiration and inspiration to all who were privileged to know her. She is deeply mourned and sorely missed by her many loved ones.
It is said that as long as we retain the memory of someone who has died, they are still very much with us. I suppose this small comfort is true. My mother is very much alive within me. I talk to her sometimes and while I don't expect an answer back, of course, it helps anyway.
My mother was a unique, great lady. I wanted to let the world know how very much I miss her.
4 comments:
<...we do not weep and grieve for those who die; it is for ourselves that we feel such despair and misery.>
I realized the same thing when my Dad died. It's kind of a rude awakening. No matter how old you are. Lisa :-]
Your love for your mother is so obvious and your tribute here to her is so special. You said something here, I can relate to. When both parents are gone, I believe, no matter how old you are, you feel like an orphan. My mother died in 1996. As close as a year ago, I'd forget and pick up the phone to tell her something. You're right, it's us who miss them. But you know. They are right here. I truly believe that. They never leave.....not only in our memories but because they watch over us until we meet again. Maybe they do come around. Maybe we see them as a butterfly on a summer's day or a shooting star in the night.
It is true, once you loose someone all the things that you feel are selfish and they are all okay to feel. I wish all the time that my Granparents could have seen thier first Great Grandchild. I try to tie in aspects of them to her, I have already taught her how to plant a flower and grow strawberries, and she loves to read, and knows a few "rules" of chess. I wish that they could have met my husband, I am sure that Grandaddy would have loved to talk to him, and vice a versa as they are both smart. I know that wishing that they could see these things and know these people only matters to me, but it is something I always wish. And hope, that is some way that they can see....
I always tell my children, when we go to a funeral of someone they do not know--like a friend's parent or grandparent--that we go to support those left behind, not to mourn for ourselves. It is being left behind that makes us ache. I was raised by my grandmother. She died in 1990. I still miss her dreadfully. I think she was the only unconditional love I have ever had.
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