Grieving Mom {Archive}

Mom died August 16, 2016. Her death was much harder for me than I expected. She had cancer for 3 years, but the end came quickly. It was deeply healing for me to write about this grieving experience. They are posted in order of when they were written.

1) A Cancer Party: It Won’t be Maudlin

August 2016 - August 2020

August 10, 2016:

The cancer has spread.

I could tell as soon as Dr. Chen came into the room that it was bad news. For some reason Dad wasn’t there yet. We had lost him in between the infusion room and the doctor’s office. Where was he?

Dr. Chen took mom’s hands and said, “The cancer is progressing. It has spread to the lungs and the liver.” I heard him immediately. Mom, in typical fashion, hadn’t heard him. She was still trying to tell him that we lost dad and that we had rescheduled the infusion so we wouldn’t be late for this appointment. His accent is strong and mom’s hearing and attention span are not. He said it again, and still she didn’t hear. He mentioned the (dreaded) word: hospice. It didn’t register. She was distracted with what she wanted to tell him.

Finally, she understood. Hospice. She thrust her hand to her chest and said, “Me? Hospice?! That’s for SICK, OLD people!” He laughed and looked nervously at me. I had to laugh and said, “She has a strong spirit.” He said, “yes, a strong spirit.” Dad finally came in. The news was reiterated. Hospice.

It will be 4-6 weeks before the cancer will really start to bother her. In fact, there will be a few weeks where she’ll feel better as the poison leaves her body. We’ve tried all the chemos for this. They’re not working anymore. How long, Dr. Chen? “I can’t say. Hospice is for people with 6 months left.”

Mom says she’s gonna need some new outfits if people are gonna be visiting her everyday. And then she says she needs to cancel her gym membership. All three of us laugh.

The cancer has spread to both lungs, the liver, the pelvis, abdomen, peritoneal and lymph nodes.

Mom asks the doctor if he remembers what she said to him the first time he gave her the news (3 ½ years ago). He remembers. “You are in the Lord’s hands. Come see, I even typed it in my notes.” Sure enough, it says, “Patient says she’s in God’s hands.” This doctor thought she was silly 3 ½ years ago. Now I see the respect and love in his eyes for my faith-full mom.

Mom is most emphatic about this: I don’t want anybody treating me like I’m sick!

I suggest we get everyone together to tell them the news. “Well, is it gonna be a downer? I don’t want it to be maudlin.” Probably. But, we can have a party afterward. “Will that ruin the party?” Probably. I have to smile.

All she wants to do when we get home is work on her book. She’s in the editing stage. It’s almost done. Dr. Chen asked for an autographed copy when it’s done. He said he read the other two.

After everyone came over, and mom gave the sad news, there really was a party. Mom says, “It was one of the best days of my life, if you can believe it! Not at all maudlin.”

2) You Didn't Have To

August 17, 2016:

Jesus came and sat by Mom a month ago.

“Now you know I’m no mystic Katie. But I was in bed, and I was awake. I wasn't dreaming. I was aware of what was going on around me. I wasn’t scared. All of a sudden, it felt like I was sitting up even though I wasn't. And Jesus was sitting beside me! I couldn’t see His face, and He didn’t say anything, but He came. And that's all there was to it. Every once in a while when I remember that, I think it was to prepare me.”

Thank you Jesus for sitting with my mom; to prepare her. It was sweet of you. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.

Mom died yesterday. And the most suprising thing is I kept asking, “where are you Mom? Are you really gone?” Last night, after a full day of tears (and laughter), I stepped outside on the balcony. I wanted to feel mom. Suddenly there was a huge, long shooting star. You didn’t have to do that for me, God. Thank you.

Today we went to church with Dad. I didn't know if he would want to go the day after death. Of course he did. They served in this church for 36 years. Their second home; their family. The choir filed and and starting to sing, “Great is Thy Faithfulness”. To put it kindly, my Dad is not a singer. Tone deaf would be an accurate description. I wish I could have recorded that moment as Dad sang “...strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow, blessings all mine with 10,000 beside…” He didn’t just sing it, he belted it. So loud. So offkey. And I wept as I got to hear my Dad tell his God that He was faithful. “Morning by morning new mercies I see.” Thank you God for giving me a Dad who wants to praise you the day after his wife dies. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.

People say "literally" when it’s not literal. “I literally went back in time.” But, I have literally felt my family and friends’ prayers this week. I was standing in the kitchen today, wondering why I felt so happy. And I KNEW it was God using those prayers to cause that. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.

I’ve done nothing to deserve the IMMENSE grace, mercy, love and faithfulness God has shown me. I’ve done so much to try to escape it. Thankfully God is a relentless lover, who has pursued me and forgiven me too many times to count. God, you are my anchor in this storm. You are my deepest soul’s joy and comfort. Thank you. You didn't have to do that.

3) Dying Belly Laughs

August 17, 2016:

We have laughed hard. I didn’t expect so much laughter. Jill put on Mom’s slinky red 70’s robe and squished her long feet into mom’s new black church shoes she never got to wear due to swollen feet. She walked down the hallway pigeon-toed and ridiculous. And we all laughed hard, belly laughs. Then, we couldn’t stop the tears as she squeezed into one of mom’s favorite pink outfits. (Jill is 5’10”. Mom was 5’3”) Oh, it’s so good to laugh.

When we went to the burial site to make some final arrangements, I was trying to understand the pricing the man was telling us compared to what I had seen online. In a very serious voice, he said, “That’s an intelligent question!” Chuck laughed really hard at that response, and repeated the statement. The gentleman went on to explain that it truly was an intelligent question because the prices online are lower than what he was quoting us. I definitely did NOT notice that, but I went with it since it made me look smart. Since I had mentioned the website, he would honor the lower pricing. Ha! It WAS an intelligent question. We needed to laugh hard. And, I must say, my mom would be proud that we got a bargain on the gravesite. She was always looking for a good deal.

On mom’s last night, she was struggling to breathe. The hospice nurse told us we should elevate her head in bed. Well, mom and dad have a thick memory foam bed. You don’t just lift the head of those. So, we were trying to figure out how we could keep her head elevated. (She tended to slip off the pillows.) Scott disappeared from the living room, and came back a while later with an old, pithy, shedding boogey board from 1980 he had found in the garage. With it under his arm (as if he was about to jump in the waves) he said, “Maybe we can use this to prop up mom’s head.” Oh my goodness. We needed to laugh hard. Thankfully that reminded dad that our neighbor had one of those big wedge pillows. That worked better. But, I love that Scott embodied one of mom’s most famous motos: “There’s almost always something you can do!”

Probably one of the funniest moments (so far) was when we were waiting for the gentleman to take mom’s body. (That actual experience was not funny at all, and when I’m ready, I’ll write about it.) But, several of us were sitting outside talking. I saw a truck pull up and I said to Carolyn, “I think that’s THEM. This might be hard.” So, I started walking toward the truck, preparing my heart to meet the man who would take my mom’s body away. I was looking down at the ground; when I lifted my head, the man was holding a HUGE SHOVEL. What?!!! My mind raced and I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. Then I see a cage in his truck!?! Then I notice it; the words on the side of the truck ,"The Gopher Man". Dad has been trying to kill this gopher for months. Even at mom’s hospice party he was putting poison in the ground. This gopher is elusive. He has a will to live. The Gopher Man had finally been hired to do the deed. He was here to collect a gopher (hence the shovel) and the $50 reward. Thankfully he was sensitive and perceptive. As I got closer, and we both realized something was weird, be said, “Is this a bad time?” For killing a gopher? YES! He quickly put the shovel in the truck and drove away. We needed to laugh hard.

Thank you God for laughter. Thank you for family who can laugh through the tears. Thank you for JOY. Mom’s prayer was that she would keep on keeping on being joyful. We’re doing that. For her. Because of her. Through You.

4) A Tradition of Mourning

Septmeber 18, 2016:

Why does it feel harder? I expected waves of sadness. I've come to understand the blah, tired feelings. But this past week has been the hardest so far. A month since Mom's burial.

I laid down, alone in my hotel room, tears slowly trickling down my cheeks, and then the torrent came. Snot and tears were all over my face. I could barely catch my breath. I was sobbing so hard. I had to blow my nose a hundred times. I even sort-of laughed at one point...how could I possibly still be crying?! It was probably 2 hours of non-stop tears. And I didn’t really even understand why now?

Why now? I think perhaps because I was finally alone. I was away on a work trip. And there were lots of late nights, emotional speeches, and good conversations. But, wow, it hit hard.

Oh, it hurt so much. It felt too hard. And then- after hours of sobs- I felt better. Weak. Puffy-eyed. Tired. But better. I sang my mom’s song, looking at the Utah hills, “Bless the LORD oh my soul...10,000 years and then forevermore.”

I had the strength to meet some friends for a post-dinner hang out. They hugged me. And loved me. And we laughed hard about Kea’s bunny needing essential oils. Two of my friends are Jewish. As they told me about the Jewish traditions surrounding death I felt a burden lifting. I realized why I was struggling to celebrate. Why this amazing, inspiring work convention felt wrong. Like I shouldn’t have come.

Yet, I needed to be there. To realize- it’s still time to mourn.

Jewish tradition has several periods of mourning. I learned that I was still in the period known as shloshim (thirty, because it lasts until the 30th day after burial). During that period, the mourners do not attend parties or celebrations, do not shave or cut their hair, and do not listen to music. I was breaking all those rules, except the hair cutting one!

I also learned the following...

“The final period of formal mourning is avelut, which is observed only for a parent’s death. This period lasts for twelve months after the burial. During that time, mourners avoid parties, celebrations, theater and concerts. For eleven months of that period, starting at the time of burial, the son* of the deceased recites the mourner's Kaddish every day.”

“After a great loss like the death of a parent, you might expect a person to lose faith in G-d, or to cry out against G-d's injustice. Instead, Judaism requires a mourner to stand up every day, publicly (i.e., in front of a minyan, a quorum of 10 adult men*), and reaffirm faith in G-d despite this loss. To do so inures to the merit of the deceased in the eyes of G-d, because the deceased must have been a very good parent to raise a child who could express such faith in the face of personal loss.”

It’s unfortunate that Americans’ are one of the few societies who do not have a tradition regarding death and mourning. It’s so helpful for both the one mourning and their friends to know what to do! More about Jewish tradition… “When visiting a mourner, a guest should not try to express grief with standard, shallow platitudes. The guest should allow the mourner to initiate conversations. One should not divert the conversation from talking about the deceased; to do so would limit the mourner's ability to fully express grief, which is the purpose of the mourning period. On the contrary, the caller should encourage conversation about the deceased.” (source for all quotes: http://www.jewfaq.org/death.htm)

It’s not that I felt like I should already be “over” the death of my beloved mommy. But I needed permission to still be “in mourning”. There is something comforting about those two words. So, I give myself permission to still be sad. But also to stand up every day and reaffirm my faith in God, because it shows what a good mom I had and it shows what a good God I serve!

* This source is Orthodox. In the Conservative tradition (and I believe Reform), women also say the Kaddish -so it would be daughters, too, not just the son- and women count in a minyan (10 adult Jews).

5) Why So Downcast?

January, 2017:

"Get up, Peggy Ann!" Mom would say this out loud when she felt she had been sitting in her chair too long (reading, of course). Hilariously, she would obey! She would stop reading, get up, and start making dinner or doing whatever chore she had been taking a break from.

The deep pain of grieving her death has signifantly lessened. I’ve gone through all the stages (over and over) and felt more than I could have ever imagined.

In this momnet, it feels helpful to think about how my mom used to talk to herself. It reminds me of the poet in the Psalms who would speak to his soul. Often he would cry out to God about suffering and pain. I am a big fan of this honesty- God can handle our complaints about ourselves and about God!

The author admits he is in despair. He writes, “My tears have been my food day and night…My soul is downcast within me.” Tears for food? I have BEEN THERE!

Then he talks to his soul, like my mom would speak to herself. “Why so downcast, oh my soul? Put your hope in God…My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you.”

I think it’s important to admit and acknowledge when our souls are downcast. See it, name it, speak it aloud to God. And then, the poet’s direction here is so brilliant. He questions it! Not in a shaming or dismissive way. But, seriously, why SO downcast, soul?

If you are grieving, you will need to sit with the honesty of feeling downcast. This may take longer than you or those around you prefer. “Grief is a long, drawn-out process, full of ups and downs, and this process generally takes longer than is recognized by society.”

I read those words in the paperwork the hospital gave my dad. I found them really interesting and helpful. They continue…

“Your grieving may go on longer than you want it to. You may tire of feeling always tired. You may grow weary of your weariness. You may feel weakened by the continuing pain. Your task, however, is to remain in your pain long enough-not a day longer than you need to, but not a day less than your loss demands. However uncomfortable this time is for you, it is serving a purpose. It is helping you heal.”

Ahhh, how long do we grieve? Until we are healed. So, don’t hurry the process, but do not stay in deep grief longer than you need to. At some point, ask yourself why you’re still downcast? Is it time to get up? Is your soul ready to put hope in God and remember all that is still good?

Why so downcast? Get up! Remember what is good. Trust God with your soul. (And like Peggy Ann, obey yourself.)

6) I Saw Mom Last Night

August 25, 2020:

It’s rare, and can never be anticipated, but always a delight.

You see, the night she graduated to heaven, I stood on my childhood balcony looking out at the stars and couldn’t shake the disturbing feeling I had. I knew her body was no longer laying on the bed she had shared with Dad for 30? Years. The mortuary men had taken that away. But, her spirit seemed to linger, yet it was detached, unsettled.

So, I stood there, looking up to the sky and suddenly realized that through my tears one question was on repeat in my mind, “Mom, where are you?” Even as I identified this question, it seemed strange. I knew where her body was, I believed her soul was with God. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t know where she was. My shoulders shook as I was overcome with confused sadness.

Mom, where are you?

Then, completely characteric of an El Cajon night, a bright shooting star went through the sky. Long and beautiful. And it seemed to be heading away and even up. Immediately the question fled. I can’t really explain why. Why did a shooting star feel like the answer to where my mom was? I don’t know. God’s answers are often beautiful and mysterious, like a shooting star. But, at that moment, I was at peace. Where was she? She was in that star. Bright, beautiful and headed quickly and gloriously away.

So, I knew this was my mom’s sign. I’d had sweet friends tell me that your loved ones will choose a plant or animal to represent them so you can remember they’re always near. I felt a little bummed mom chose something that I see so rarely in the light-polluted town I live in. Shooting stars are a very rare sight. And, I have seen a few over the past 5 years since mom soared away from us, but not many.

Last night, driving back from beach camping at 11:30pm, there she was...unexpected, very low and very bright. Right before I turned onto my street. It was just me and my daughter in the car. We both exclaimed and were surprised to see such a rare thing in our town. And I told her it was a visit from Grandma. And she didn’t find that strange at all. She said, “Well, she never saw our new place!” Ha! Mom wanted to see the new house. Of course she did.

And all this is not very theologically sound, but I believe it is from God. Because it brought peace, joy and comfort. And those are gifts that only Perfect Love can give.