Defining Moments

It is very interesting to me that the very family that is facing the potential of loosing a loved one is the same family that allowed me to attend the births of two of their children.

Birth and Death the book ends of life.  The beginning and the end.  They both fascinate me.  They both have stages that are often clearly recognizable.  They both illicit a lot of emotion.  They both define us.

I would say becoming a parent and loosing a parent and being the primary caregiver to that parent where very defining times in my life.  My Mother’s final strokes of parenting me, where done as she placed her trust in me as that caregiver and eventually relied on my voice when hers finally gave up.  ”You will know” is what she told me, “you will know what to do when the time comes.”

She was right, I did know her wishes when she could no longer express them.  I did know what to do and I did it.

So our friend’s Mother is very ill.  Her children all gather to see if she can rally back from this place she is in.  My mother did that too, she rallied back more than a few times in her chronic state, but eventually the body is out of come backs if you are dealing with chronic illness.  Then the beginning of the end begins.

I called my sister yesterday because as I’ve waited for news on my friends’ Mom, it has of course brought up all that I went through with my Mom’s declining health and eventual death.  I was cooking christmas cookies, and reflecting on her good death.  She was surrounded by love, she was not alone.  My husband’s Mom died with strangers.  That broke our hearts.  My Mother slipped away, peacefully.

Later I came to understand that some people do not have good deaths, that in fact there are awful deaths, and my nurse friend said after Mother died, “Oh how I prayed it would be a peaceful passing.”  She knew Mother was not a peaceful person, nor had she endured her illness peacefully.  She was scared.

If I had a few minutes with my friend right now I would say, “Watch over her, and listen to her words and look into her eyes.  She will tell you things, and when she is ready to go, be brave and cheer her on.  As awful as this is, be there for her, and help her go.”

I sought to understand the passage of death.  I read countless books in Mother’s last 6 weeks of life.  I read my books and my bible, round the clock.  I put my self on hold, and tried to stay ahead of everything so I could be together and focused when need be.

My friend is going to have some final paint strokes brushed on by her Mom even now.  She will be more defined, and stronger from this, and she will have no regrets, she will have done all that she could.

It won’t make it any easier now, or take one moment of the pain that is to come, away, but later she will look back and know things that she will be proud of and feel comfort from.

My Mom did not die alone, she was surrounded by love and her two daughters who cheered her on to the edge.  A good death-we were part of that.

A hard one, but a good one

Bare with me, this one is not going to be pretty or fluffy or happy.

I have a friend, whose mother is hospitalized.  Congestive heart failure.  On facebook I believe I read that the mother said, “this is the beginning of the end.”  That sent shock waves down my back.  I had already had the impression that this was the case, but to read it, effected me.

My Mom never said, this is the beginning of the end.  The palliative care specialist did, in so many words, slightly cloaked.  My sister rose up against that and I tried to read more into it to get further ahead of it.

When my Mother was dying, I was trying to get ahead of it, all the way ahead of it.  Emotionally I started reading “dying books”.  I did it on purpose, and after she died, I only read dying books, grieving books, and I pulled death to me very intimately.  I found death is like birth, it has signs, it has stages.  But I needed to be prepared and ahead so I could be strong and stable when decisions had to be made.  It was my job to watch over my Mother’s well being and wishes.  Biggest job outside that of birthing and caring for my child.

My friend’s Mom is trying to prepare her family.  She is sending signals.  Mine was silent.  She said nothing.  I suspect she knew a lot, but she said very little.  If indeed she is dying, she will be surrounded by loved ones.  My Mother in-law died alone, only attended by strangers.  My Mother died with my sister and I right by her side, she too was surrounded by those who loved her the most regardless of everything.

What is a good death?  The palliative care specialist, a christian woman says, when the spirit is ready and joins the body that cannot go on, there is a peaceful passing.  If not there is a fight.  One of the biggest signs of fight, pulling on clothing, trying to rid yourself of it.  My Mom did that the first night in the last 3 of her life.  We wrestled her all night long, then slowly the peace came, and they backed off the ativan.  She died very peacefully, I have no doubt at all that she was very very present in her death.  She waited til we woke from a 4 hour sleep, to die.  Our friend Annie had been sitting with her, watching her breathe.  We slept in a chair and on the floor.  Our family had gone home at 1am.  We woke at 4am.  Annie needed to leave.  Toni and I took turns in the bathroom and talking to Mom as we had been doing day and night for 3 days in our little room.  Toni climbed in bed with my Mom.  I lay back down on the mat on the floor.  Mom died in Toni’s arms.  Mom was a pool of wet seeping edema, and my sister climbed in that wet bed, and just held her, hand on her chest and felt the last beats of her heart.

How amazing for my Mom to be watched over, cared for, spoken for and held at the very end of her life.  She was not touchy with us-as children, til the end, and then she constantly wanted to hold our hands.  We held hands daily, hourly for the last 2 months of her life.  She was afraid if we left she would die alone.  Every time I did leave the hospital, they called me right back.  Scared me to death, but called me back any way.  Today I write this with a lump in my throat and I wish Nanny will feel the comfort of all the love that surrounds her as her body fights.  I pray that her daughter and sons will be able to say what is on their hearts, that her grandchildren will be present enough to say their words.  I pray for a good death, and if it’s not for now, I pray for peace as she labors on.

I look back and the fact that my Mother had a good death, allows me to feel good now.  It gives me comfort that a woman who was so strong and controlling and difficult could soften so much and touch so sweetly and allow us close to her final months of life, like she did.  It was a good death.

Paint, Picks and Words

I was on the phone yesterday with a friend who was asking one of those deep questions of herself, and finding that the answer was not immediately forth coming.  She did not know WHY to a something she does.  Smart and forthcoming, she questioned herself out loud.  I’ve only got one of those questions I can breathe out loud and I have to many a person asked it of myself…out loud.  Peeling back a tiny bit of vulnerability I ask it.  I probably ask it because I know that they don’t have the answer, if I don’t certainly they don’t.  If my sister can’t answer it either.  I suspect it resides with my Mother, who has passed.  I know she knows.  I also know I never even thought to ask her while I could.

After I hung up from this conversation a painting danced in my mind.  I real painting.  I want to paint this picture, with acrylic paints.  I want to paint it on a big canvas, and I want to use an impressionist style.  I can see it, but I know I do not have the talent or technique to actually do this.  But everything in me wants to go grab some paint, buy the canvas and paint it.  Maybe for Christmas I will set that up and do it.

For now, I will come here and rid myself  of the inner urge to express myself.  Note I am not willing to reveal the picture, even in words.  It has to do with leaving the surface and returning to the deep.  Taking a big breath and submerging myself into a deep place.  I question the logic of that at this moment.  But to paint it, I would be happy to dive deep.  The colors I see on this painting do not go with my home.  The colors I see in this painting, are vibrant Phil Pringle colors.  I don’t even know how to blend them into existence, so for now, I will just begin to draw the painting with words.

Words make the blog, draw the picture and sing the song.  Words define and give meaning to what is flowing through the deeper places.  I am coming to a new hour in my world.  I can sense it, something is breaking and something new is coming.  There is space to occupy it now in my mind and there is time to give it too.

I’ve been on my guitar a great deal