Full Circle

In 1937 in western Montana, my Mom and Dad fell in love.  A shy 18 year old waitress and a 30 year old timber worker who lied about his age, telling her he was 29 because he was afraid she wouldn't marry him.  But marry him she did and they had nearly 50 years together before Dad's death.  Twelve years separate my only sibling and I, and being the baby I remained close to home, helping Mom when Dad passed and being with Mom when she passed this last April.  Mom was the best friend I ever had on this earth.  I told her every detail of everything in my life and she did the same.  I often wondered what I would ever do without her.  Somewhere in those first few weeks of grieving, I received a phone call from a long lost niece who found my name when reading Mom's obituary online.  Our family, as sometimes happens in families,lost touch with those living a great distance away.  Hard times and illnesses made it difficult to visit.  Mom and Dad passed never knowing some of their grandchildren.  In one of those long sleepless nights, I made a promise to my parents and to myself.  This family was coming back together.  In their honor I made a trip to Pennsylvania and had a joy filled reunion with two nieces and met my great nephew.  This Thanksgiving I will travel to California with my niece and visit my great niece and great great nephews.  Mom and Dad's great great grandchildren!  They will hear the stories about a grandfather who was a ranger at Yellowstone National Park and a guard during the construction of Grand Coulee Dam.  They will know about a Grandmother who rode a horse 12 miles to school and helped her father make homemade root-beer.  Best of all, they will know they are here because that shy little waitress fell in love with a handsome stranger.  They will know, Mom and Dad.  We will come full circle, I promise. 

"See ya later," she said, "when your legs get straighter!"

It has been a year since Mom got sick. When I think about that year, which is often, I like to reflect on the many different people we came in contact with during Mom's last days on earth. I recall the first hospital roommate was a petite lady I will call Mary. Suffering from dementia and a fractured hip, I quickly learned that Mary had been a charge nurse in her heyday and by all accounts, a good one. Though her memory was mostly gone, occasionally she would surprise us with her quick wit. Whenever I left Mom for the day, I would call out "see ya later alligator.". One day I had just finished saying "see ya later" and I heard Mary chime in, "when your legs get straighter!". The nurses and I had a good laugh and Mary told us about saying this as a child. Her eyes were bright and she laughed uproariously telling us about it. Such a fine lucid moment for Mary! Another roommate in the rest home was a small Chinese women who could speak no English. But boy could she communicate! With her eyes and hands, she told me about the beautiful flowers her daughter brought in. Two of the nurses Mom had in the ICU stand out. One looked just like Meg Ryan and we teased her about being sleepless in Seattle. Another had the most positive, cheerful persona I have ever encountered in a hospital. We called her our "angel." Sometimes we find ourselves rushing through life missing chance encounters that can have significance to us when we recall them later. I found myself being more aware and in tune with the world around me during that year than any other time in my life. And so I am trying to hold onto that awareness because of the peace, tranquility, and enjoyment of life, no matter the circumstances, that it brings. As for you, my peeps, I'll see you all later, when my legs get straighter!

Happy 93rd Birthday Mama!

Today, May 15, would have been my Mother's 93rd birthday.  I remember she always liked the date she was born; May 15, 1919.  It was a neat number, she said, and she was especially proud of being born in the year which women obtained the right to vote.  Mom loved numbers.  She loved it that I was born in 1950 and then my first daughter was born in 1970.  Both in the beginning of decades, she said.  There was something significant about that!  Today I did all my flower pot planting in her honor.  And yes, they are all planted in three's, Mom.  On one of our last visits, she asked me how old she was because she had forgotten.  When I said almost 93, she said that's impossible because that would make you 62 and you can't be.  Well, yes it was and yes I am, Mom.  When I sat in my new deck swing today reflecting on Mom's birthdays in the past, I remembered one year when my Dad and I bought her a beautiful big cake.  My Dad propped it up on the kitchen table so it would be the first thing she saw when she came into the house.  Instead, a loud thump was what we heard from the living room a short while later.  The cake had fallen, frosting first, right onto the floor.  Dad was mortified, but we all had a good laugh later and the cake was still good!  It feels really weird to have a May 15 come and not be having a party for Mom.  I imagine it always will.  And as much as she loved numbers, I know she would have loved the date of her death, 4-12-12.  Another neat number.   Happy Birthday Mama.

Along Came A Dog

When I was a little girl, I had a beautiful golden retriever named Rusty. He was my best friend and always there for me when I needed him. I cried into his fur when my Grandma died and again when I contracted polio. He would sit by quietly and gently nuzzle. And look at me with those understanding eyes. Many of you know I recently lost my Mother. One day I had just left the bank and was crying because I had seen an elderly mother in the bank with her daughter. Sitting at the stop light, I looked at the car next to me. In the backseat of the car was a golden retriever dog with his head out the window looking right at me. He never took his eyes off me as I began blubbering like a baby and telling this dog how much I loved him. It seemed the light did not change and it was just me and this dog for a very long time. I did not roll my window down for fear of causing him to try to jump out. Finally the car moved away and we went our separate ways. Anyone who thinks dogs can't read our minds is dead wrong. This dog clearly saw that I was grieving and was doing what dogs do, standing by and gently nuzzling. Thank you Rusty, for still being there for me after all these years. I will never forget you.

Visiting with Mom

Most of you know my mother is living in a rest home (NW Contunuum) and has been since last June. Today as I visited I was struck at how weak she is becoming. She looks at me through sleepy eyes and says "any day now, honey." She knows that I know what she means. It has been a long battle she has fought. Suffering from intestinal distress for much of her life, it was a final blockage and subsequent surgery that finally put her over the edge. She is at peace with it and in no pain. Vascular dementia resulting from mini strokes has robbed her of much of her memory so we speak of the past mostly. When I got home today it occurred to me the similarity of caring for her needs and that of my 4 month old great grandson, Cameron, who I watch 1 day a week or so. Both love it when I stroke their heads, both wrap their fingers around mine when I feed them. I feel Mom's irratic heartbeat and Cameron's strong steady one and thnk of one just beginning life while the other is ending. Once when my youngest daughter was an infant, I carried her through a rest home while on a visit. An elderly lady grabbed her little hand and said, "Oh, she is just starting her life and I am ending mine." I remember her sweet face and felt sorry for her. Thinking of that now I am reminded of the swift passage of time and the importance of being with those we love. While Mother is saying good-bye, Cameron is saying hello and both bring me unspeakable joy.