Thursday, September 2, 2010

mom

When the phone rang, I knew.

Although we had left Dad stable and in good spirits in the capable hands of the ICU the night before, Ellie had just woken me by touching my foot to tell me that Mom and Julie were on their way to the hospital.

“Why?” I asked.


"Dad’s heart stopped, they’re resuscitating him."

I knew.

“Shit.” I said.

We floundered through a few minutes of confusion, trying to figure out what to do. Should we go right away? Wake the five sleeping kids and take them with us? Wait to hear something? We decided to get ready. As I was asking Bill if he’d mind staying with the kids so Ellie and I could get down there, the phone rang.

I knew.

It was mom.

She said: “I’m sorry honey, Daddy died.”

She had just been through the unimaginable horror of holding on to the love of her life while he died. Yet when she called to tell us, her first words were “I’m sorry”

It’s mom, you know. It’s mom who breaks my heart. Her broken heart is breaking my heart.

But I didn’t start this to be a(nother) tear jerker, just ignore these rivers running down my cheeks. I meant to write this about my mom, because she is amazing.

A couple of days before she threw me out I left, Mom told me that she wasn’t going to be one of those women who reek of sadness and loss, whose grief is so palpable that everyone avoids her to protect themselves from darkness.

Mom is destroyed inside, but to the world she presents the image of a person who is carrying on.

She greets us with her morning email every day, and her grief is right there between the lines, but her determination to forge ahead into this unchartered territory is giving strength to all of us.

Mom keeps thanking us for the little things we're doing to help, making calls and filling out forms and setting up systems for smooth household operations. The easy stuff, the stuff no one really thought much about because Dad took care of it. It's selfish of us to accept Mom's thanks for these things though, because doing them makes us feel better, like we're not just sitting here wallowing in this thing that has happened to us. To mom.

I want to thank Mom, though, because her strength is helping me bear the impossible weight of this world that insists on carrying on without Dad in it.

Mom has great friends - she is surrounded by smart, funny, warm, wonderful women and men who are looking out for her. At the wake, I lost count of how many people looked me in the eye and told me that they loved my mom.

In her eulogy, Mary Beth said:

In collecting our thoughts for today, we were laughing about the fact that everyone says, "Your father was SUCH a nice guy." Everyone. No one hedges their praise.
.
The same can be said for Mom. Everyone in that long, long line kept talking about what a fan they were of Mom's, and how they'd keep her in their hearts and minds. Just yesterday I received a note that said: "Your mother is one of my very favorite people in the world."

No wonder Dad was so crazy about her.

I love you, Mom. Thanks for pretending that you're okay so the rest of us can pretend that we are, too. We're in this together, this thing you so aptly named: "my new fucking life."

12 comments:

Me, You, or Ellie said...

Aw Mom.

Sigh.

Mistah knew, too, but I did not know. I did not know when the phone rang and you and I each picked up a handset, I did not know until I heard "I'm sorry honey."

I also heard Mom refer to it as "my new bullshit life." Maybe when children are present.

This is lovely, Jacquie.

Poor Mom.

Sigh.

Ellie

Springer Kneeblood said...

You capture the emotions brilliantly. I'm just so sorry you all have to experience those emotions. Your mom does sound like a truly fabulous person, very strong and very caring. You're a lucky family.

MB said...

Ach. You've captured our heartbreak so eloquently, Jacq. Love you, Mom!

Pickles and Dimes said...

Your mom is an amazing person - wait, your WHOLE FAMILY is. I'm glad you're all so close and can help each other out during this extremely sad time.

Anonymous said...

AMEN, Sista.

Jane

Me, You, or Ellie said...

Geez, Jacquie, I'm crying -- again! You certainly do capture the emotion very, very well.

I knew too. When my mom called. It was a long time ago, but this post brought it all right back.

It's not easy right now. For anyone, especially your mom, but she does have all 6(!) of you girls, and all her wonderful friends, and a lifetime of memories; memories of a 50-plus year marriage to a man who was crazy about her :-)

But of course, I agree, it's a new fucking bullshit life...

Here's to soldiering on, mom C.

xo,
Beth

Mom C said...

I cried when I ready your post Jacquie and now I'm crying again reading all these comments. I'm sooo sick of crying, lol. I love this Jacq - I hope I can be as strong as you think I am.......love, mom

Me, You, or Ellie said...

Mom, you just be whatever you want to be, I hope this doesn't make you feel like you have to be strong for us, because despite all evidence to the contrary, we are adults and we can be brave and strong, too. You've shown us how.

I love you

Jacquie

Julie said...

Nicely done, Jacquie. You're right, it's about mom, all this grief. I can't stand this for her; the heartbreak is palpable.

Here's what mom wrote me last night that had me sobbing:
>
You nailed it about all the stuff dad and I had together, it's still so unreal for me not to have him waiting for me when I get home, always with the biggest smile and the biggest hug - like I just made his day.... Nighttime is so hard, but waking up in the morning with the realization once again that he's gone is my low point. (I'm sobbing as I'm writing this of course - me, the brave one, hah).
>
I hope you don't mind that I shared, mom. I just found that so incredibly poignant. Can't you just see dad greeting her as she came in the door after work each day, face lit up, big hug ready, making mom feel like a queen?

She's a brave soul, but she's also talking about her loss, and her sadness, which is how I know she'll be ok. It's not just a stoic pretense, she IS brave, but shen she's sad she cries, and when she's ok she carries on.

When mom and I were in that surreal hospital scene, trying to take in what was happening, I saw this start with mom. It was too much to comprehend, there was no digesting what we were experiencing. She started talking.

Mom held dad, and said 'oh, Joe. No, honey. Oh, Joe'. She breathed. She held him. She told the doctors about him, that he is the nicest guy in the world, that this is such a great guy. She told dad she was there, she told him she loved him. She said how good he always was to her. She cried. She called her brother Brian, who is her comfort, and kept him on the phone as the hospital priest performed dad's last rites. She cried. She asked questions, she was incredibly SANE. I was a drone, shocked. Mom slowly absorbed the situation, processing in mocrobytes. Everthing she said and did was rational, truly appropriate to what she was feeling and experiencing. I was amazed. This is an incredible woman, not because she's superhero strong, but because she's dealing with it in such an incredibly real and beautiful way.

The day of the funeral I was in her closet getting dressed. (there were a lot of people in that little condo!), and she came in. She didn't see me. I heard her say 'how am i doing, Joe?' I told her I was there and she said ok, i'm just talking to dad. I think I'm doing ok, don't you? I think he'd be proud.

I do, Mom.

Aline said...

Wow, once again Jacquie, you've outdone your last writing. *crying* and now *crying* again after Julie's post. In the last weeks, I've often thought about how you all are coping. Julie, you captured your mom's emotions so eloquently. Thank you for sharing your raw and so powerful experience of that day. I can see that you all are able to use that emotion/talk about it, to get through it. Much kudos to your mom for raising you with such strength. Aline xo

Me, You, or Ellie said...

Oh deargodinheavenabove.

I will tell you this.

1. My siters can write.
2. My blog post tomorrow will not be sad. My blog post tomorrow will be happy! Happy!

Sigh. Thank you Jacqueline. Thank you Julie.

I love you peeps.
Ellie

Unknown said...

Oh, for the love of God. I just want to give you all a big hug.