CREATIVE CAREER TRANSITIONS / BRAZEN PURPOSE
LIVING FROM LOVE INSTEAD OF FEAR
A Personal Message about My Mother’s Death
Last week, in keeping with the Jewish religion, I shoveled dirt on my mother’s coffin. They lowered the mahogany box into the ground. It was a sunny day. That’s how wrong it all it was.
Only days before, I had flown in from Colorado to spend some vacation time with her.
I don’t know how to write about this enormous experience. I’m going to try.
What Happened:
I had gone back to NY to spend vacation time with my mother. I was teaching at Omega for the weekend. When my retreat ended, Paul, my partner, came to pick me up, bringing my mother with him to see Omega. I had stayed longer with my group, and had decided to have lunch with them. I invited mom to join us.
Everyone was telling my mother how wonderful I was, what a great daughter she had. My mother ate it up. She couldn’t resist telling them stories of how smart I was in kindergarten, the awards I won, and then talking about herself without pause or asking anyone else about themselves. I felt embarrassed and irritated. Now I feel pain as I remember this opportunity to have loved more deeply.
I wanted my mother to have a great time. But then when she was there, I felt stressed. I am telling myself that “only the love is real.” My intentions were pure. And I know she loved being there. And that emotional complexity is part of the human dance. But I am sad. I am sad that I let “my stuff” get in the way of being present. I was tired. I had taught non-stop all weekend. I had a meeting with my publisher scheduled for the next day and I was nervous. I can tell you all the reasons. And in time, they will comfort me. But right now I am sad that I wasn’t as present as I wanted to be, as I aimed to be. I am sad that I didn’t tell her I loved her one thousand times-- even though I have told her hundreds of times. That I didn’t let her talk more at the table, tell stories that “didn’t matter,” and tell everyone- in front of her- how much she meant to me. If time is fluid and goes in all directions, as some physicists say, I am sitting at that table now. I am telling everyone about my mother. I am beaming at her, letting her know just how precious she is.
We drove to the train station.
Paul and I were going into New York City. We were planning to return back to my mother’s place, later the next day. Then we were going to spend the rest of the week watching movies with her, tooling around upstate, eating at diners. My mother drove away from the train station in Pawling, NY.
Just when Paul and I got to Grand Central Station, my brother called. My mother had been in a head-on collision. She was in a hospital in Poughkeepsie. She had broken ribs and major damage to her right lung. They thought she might recover. But at almost 83 years old, almost anything could happen.
I sunk to the sidewalk on 42nd street, leaning against the wall. There was no longer a hot dog vender or streams of people passing by. I went into a cocoon. Shock, sadness, and pain numbed me. I felt very quiet in the middle of the heat, horns, and bustling crowds that is New York City.
We turned around and got back on a train heading back upstate to Poughkeepsie. Three quarters of the way there, my brother texted me. “Things have taken a turn for the worse.” On the phone, he said, that because of the pain, my mother’s heart had started giving out. The hospital had called a Code Blue. I wanted to rip through the container of my body so that I could fly to that hospital and be with her. I wanted to whisper to her, to soothe her, and to nourish her. The train moved slower than a rock up a mountain.
My mother was declared dead. I had two stops to go.
My Relationship with My Mother
In many workshops, I had teased about my mother. I imitated a Jewish accent, and her nudging questions, or fixation with traditional security. In my A Course in Miracles workshops, I shared more of my real journey with her. In these past few years, I had grown so much. I no longer needed her to “get me.” I no longer needed her to like my hair or to “see the real me.” I had decided, instead, to “get her” and to cherish her in every way I could. In my best moments, and there were more and more of them, I treated her with unconditional kindness and gratitude. I really came to love being with her. Our relationship blossomed and I felt free of old hurts.
My mother was very proud of me. She told everyone that her daughter was teaching at Omega. She didn’t really even know what Omega was. But that didn’t stop her one bit.
People at her service told me that I was “the light of her life,” and all she talked about. That made me happy. In the purse my mother had on her, the one the hospital returned to us, I found the last Mother’s Day card I’d sent her, complete with my love letter to her. She kept it in her purse because she would whip it out at a moment’s notice and read it to people. I am so grateful I took the time to write that card, to say everything my best self wanted her to know.
My Message to You and Myself (Or my “Take Away” for What Has Been Taken Away)
In the midst of the pain of this, I have great peace. I keep saying, “Nothing is okay right now. And All is Well.” My mother was beginning to suffer from the possible beginning signs of dementia. She had radical memory loss. I believe she knew this, and was beginning to fear what was happening. She was leaving this earth slowly, losing interest in things. I am positive she knew her time was coming. The anxiety was keeping her up at nights. For the past 7 months, I have lived in fear and hyper-vigilance, sensing her passing. I knew I was losing her. I knew it in every cell of my being.
I feel grateful for all the pain she has been spared. I am grateful for the pain I have been spared in watching time take away my mother’s spirit and having her deteriorate or struggle.
I am awed by the choreography of timing. I was home for that week. “Coincidentally” my brother had taken vacation time for that same week, for a trip to Florida. It allowed us to do what needed to be done. This may have been a car accident, but it was not an accident.
Finally, this is the message part I guess: I am at peace with my mother’s passing--to the degree I was present to her life.
Because I have been consciously working on this relationship for years (my own private EST seminar at times) I am mostly at peace. I am sad, broken open, swimming in the mystery, and also feeling grounded.
There are still places where I wish I’d done better. I wish I could have been more. And there is this strange guilt that comes from living when others die.
So from my heart to yours—dare to love the people you love, a little better. Don’t worry about being perfect .Sometimes, it just means being in the room. Give yourself slack. And also give yourself the gift of effort and growth.
Everything you do now, will save you pain later.
Final Words
I bless my mother forever. I will miss her forever. My mother suffered a truly tragic childhood, from which she never recovered. I pray that in her next adventure she knows a Hallmark movie childhood and a sweeter than Hallmark life. My mother loved to dance. I see her dancing now, laughing at all the sadness she carried through this life, realizing that she is free to choose again.
My mother used to say to me-- what I now say to her: “Ya done good, Kiddo.”
Run Mom run--- run to the Light.
Her name was Janice Kieves.
Comments
From my heart to yours...
I fell behind in my reading, but always save yours to catch up on when I have the quality time I enjoy reserving for your wonderfulness. Regretfully, lesson learned; don't wait for the perfect time; open, browse and at least touch those you care so much about. So what if the time isn't perfect for "quality".
Tama, from my heart to yours, I am so sorry for the hole left by your mother's passing. Her soul and the light she leaves glowing in you will fill it gradually over time. After how many years since our 2007 workshop? I still love you, cheer for you, laugh with you and thrive on your regular reminders to love.
Janice was beautiful, and you carry on her torch....
Thank you ALL for these BEAUTIFUL messages!!
I want to respond to each and every one of you. I am so touched as I read your messages. I'll keep reading and savoring and sending each of your light as you deal with the passing of your loved ones. We are all one family here and i really feel that right now. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, Tama
Dear Tama-- Still wiping
Dear Tama--
Still wiping tears away as I read your loving, transparent message about you, your mother, your relationship and her transition. I lost my mother almost four years ago and while the pain does eventually subside the mom-space in the heart remains open for business for a long, long time. Thank you for sharing so poignantly and personally with us. Your journey is ours and we are incredibly blessed to have such a gifted one with which to share the path.
Love and blessings,
Betty
I Remember......
Just decided to look for old friends when I typed in your name. I stumbled across your site & decided to take a look. Not really knowing if this was my old childhood friend, I started reading your entry about your mom's passing. Once I saw the old photographs, and saw yours & Janice's faces staring back at me, I knew it was my childhood friend.
I am so sorry to hear of your mom's passing. I remember her as always being so sweet to me when we were children. She always made me feel welcome at your home. I always wondered what happened to you and your family over the years, and now I've satisfied that curiosity.
God Bless you and congratulations on all of your success. Your mom is definitely proud.
Bonnie!!!!!!!!!!! Hello!!!!!!!!!
Bonnie,
so good to hear from you!! I believe i learned to study and create "study sheets" because of you. I've wondered about you too. I'm sending oodles of love your way. Thanks so much for writing. South Shore rocks. And I hear, it no longer exists...but our memories do. Love, Tama
Heartfelt Empathy
Years ago after flying to NYC I missed the bus to Omega for your weekend workshop. I was one of the first to register so a personal consultation was included. Although I missed the course, you honored the consultation by doing it on the phone. I was so very impressed by your integrity. Keeping one's word and doing one's best are obviously lessons learned from your mother since she was so very proud of all your accomplishments. And, none of that will be lost with her passing.
Now we have another personal link created by mishap. My mother, just before her 86th birthday, died 4 days after your dear mother passed away. "Out of the blue" my mother was diagnosed with metastasized lung cancer and given 3 months to live. Turned out to be an extraordinarily accurate prediction.
Like you, Dear Tama, I learned to learn more from my mother at the very end of her life than I ever did when I was younger and she was trying to guide me. I guess I just was not present.
Mom died Thursday, July 28th at 12:27 p.m. in a full care residence. I held her hand, rubbed her forehead and told her what a terrific person she had been. I had never seen a death before, but she seemed to be calm. A few weeks earlier Mom said I was a very easy birth. I hope I repaid her by giving her an easier death. For me it was a long journey from being hysterical at my grandmother's funeral in my early twenties to actually being of some help to my dying mother. My parents had witnessed so much death/torture during their youth (WWII) that it was a taboo subject. I am glad to have got past that ingrained fear. My meditation practice, coaching training and Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) teaching have been most helpful.
Shortly after Mom's death, I went through her phonebook and made what seemed like a "zillion" calls to Estonia, Sweden, Switzerland, California, Florida, Missouri, British Columbia, Alberta, Ontario and Quebec to personally notify her friends. What did I find? Aside from it being strangely comforting, Mom had contacted many of them herself during her two months in palliative care at her own home to say she had a long life and was at ease with what was coming. A formidable teacher right to the end.
I am sure Tama that our mothers will keep us connected to what we still need to learn.
I wish you a flood of happy memories,
Kersti
Your words echo my sentiments
Tama,
My sincere condolences on the loss of your mom. My mom passed away at 84 in January of this year of end stage rheumatoid arthritis. It was a long and painful last year of her life. I called my mom everyday but I wish I had made more time to visit and just let her be herself without trying to correct or argue. Since her death, the gifts, the lessons, and the virtues she imparted are so crystal clear. I could not fully comprehend until now that she had such an immense influence on who I am and what I do.
Perhaps this is just how it is.
I wish you strength in the coming months as the reality of her physical absence sinks in and then slowly fades into a knowing of her essence everywhere and especially in you. Thank you for sharing such a personal experience.
Loving our mothers
My heart goes out to you in the loss of your mother. My mother passed away almost two years ago. She was 83.
No matter the circumstances, the loss of our mothers feels tragic. One of my friends expressed it so beautifully when she related what a strange feeling it is to be still living in a world where the one who gave you life is not still in it. For a long time my mind would not wrap itself around the idea that my mom was gone. I would feel that I needed to give her a call or visit. What would my life look like without my mom in it?
The passing of our parents can be as life-defining as our birth. They inform so much of who we are and the process of what we are to become. I applaud you for sharing your process so openly. My mother's death birthed a new life for me. Her death distilled a new understanding of what is important in life. LOVE! I am reminded of the words of my minister in saying, at death, "we leave behind everything we have and take with us everything we are." It seems more urgent for me now to do the things that I love and nurture the loving relationships that I have. Those are the things that create who I am and reside in my soul for eternity.
Life is so mysterious! I feel the presence of my parents' love, encouraging and supporting me to move beyond my fears and live life more fully. I am inspired to increasingly recognize what is precious in life, to embrace it more passionately and to share it more courageously. Isn't this what life is all about? I truly believe it is!!!
Your Message
I like your message: "I am at peace with my mother’s passing--to the degree I was present to her life."
My dad died a year and a half ago. I did my best to be "present" with him for the five years before he died. I knew our visits could not go on forever. I truly felt "complete" with him when he died. I still miss him, but I don't have many regrets.
A New Relationship
Dear Tama,
Blessings to you as you adjust to this new relationship with your mother. I believe that it is not the end but something beautiful and fresh.
I remember talking to your mother at Einstein’s when she visited Denver several years ago and her pride in your accomplishments was evident in everything she said. Your underlying love for her was also evident in the stories you told about her.
My mother passed in October of 2000 after suffering from dementia and living in a care facility for twelve years. I was her legal guardian through those years and I remember the staff of the facility explaining to me that my mother was “a bit controlling.” I wondered if they honestly thought I’d be surprised by the news.
She eventually contracted pneumonia and died within two days. We were given the gift of looking into each other’s eyes and saying, “I love you.” before she went into her final coma.
When I woke up the day after her death, I found myself experiencing my mother in a new way. My memories of the controlling mother were vague. My memories of the elderly dementia patient seemed unreal. For the first time, I was seeing my mother as a kindred spirit, another woman doing the best she could to live a good life. As a daughter, I thought she was controlling. Since I’m a mother myself, I could see that she was a woman who loved me and wanted the best for me. We just didn’t always agree about what was best.
I believe that the roles played in this life can fall away when someone passes and we can begin to see each other as the pure spirits that we are.
My parents loved to dance and they knew Tony LaRotonda. They attended the same church and he repaired our televisions. Maybe Tony can introduce Janice to Joe and Marie and they can all dance in celebration together.
I say goodbye to my mother’s body, that sheltered and nourished me.
But I know that she dwells with me in spirit where she is strong and whole again.
Graduation Day For Janice
Dear Tama,
We have not spoken for a long time my friend. I walk a similar path with you this summer as my father, Tony, celebrated his graduation day on 5/8/11. Yes he died on Mother's Day sleeping peacefully next to his beloved of 67 years...my mother Opal. We could not have full closure on his graduation until August 12 due to the fact that my father died two weeks after my brother had suffered a severe stroke. So we waited for my brothers recovery to celebrate my dad's amazing life. He was 94 when he transitioned. In the meantime I kept my father's ashes at my home and I could share is story after story of how he had me running around. As quiet as he was in his life...he is now choosing to be quite vocal in his eternal home.
My prayers are with you, Paul, and your family. Regardless of all the 'stuff' we went through with our parents as we sprouted our wings...their influence in our lives is eternal. Be well my friend. Without question, Janice and Tony are dancing in celebration of a job well done.
Loving ~ Tom
Janice and Tony and Maggie....are dancing, as are we
Tom,
thank you for your words of comfort and love. So sorry to hear about your dad and brother. This living is not for sissies! I'm sending love your way dear one, and please know...I always feel connected to you. You are still a knight in my heart. Love, Tama
My heart shares your sadness
Dear Tama,
I am so very sorry for the loss of your mother. My heart is full for the pain of separation (and guilt) you are feeling. My mother passed to the other side in 2004, at the age of 83. It seems so recent. I had moved back to Beaumont, TX to look after my parents; she had recovered from a stroke all but her speech and writing ability. She managed to communicate what was on her mind to me most of the time, and it was a healing time as I slowly learned to let go of ego and be a bit more patient. However, for a couple of days her speech was so garbled it was very difficult to decipher, and I'll never forget the look of hurt in her eyes as I impatiently told her I couldn't understand her one night. The next morning she suffered a second stroke from which I knew she wouldn't recover. It took 7 weeks for her body to completely shut down; agonizing, slow days of her heart succumbing to infection and her lungs filling with fluid. One night I held her hand and, with tears streaming down my face, told her I loved her and it was ok for her to go home. She looked at me in the only lucid moment of those 7 weeks. Even though she couldn't speak, I knew she understood. Though it took 10 more days, she stopped fighting and looking so terrified. Yet, I am still haunted by the hurt look on her face that last night before the stroke. I know she has forgiven me. I have felt her presence telling me it's ok. I've forgiven myself many times. But, I wish I could take it back. And I find that with each year I miss her more and understand her more than the year before.
My thoughts, prayers, and love are with you. How blessed we are to have had precious mothers who were our biggest fans, even when we didn't know it, and had faith in us when we sometimes weren't sure of ourselves.
Bless You,
Maggie Harris
Life...
Hi tama,
We met in ny, i was with noreen i remember your very pretty blue eyes! Welcome to the club no one ever wants to be a member of :( . Please accept my sincere condolences. Please know there is no need to lead us here, to be so brave, for this Loss you get a huge pass to just "be". Even with your understanding and peace with your moms passing, please remember you are still a daughter who lost a mom and the complexities of pain and loss and grief are mysterious, hold on tight you will need yourself in the times to come. also know you are surrounded by love, light and all that is good in this world to ease your pain and this is something you have created, ...wonder in this grace!
Life...
Hi tama,
We met in ny, i was with noreen i remember your very pretty blue eyes! Welcome to the club no one ever wants to be a member of :( . Please accept my sincere condolences. Please know there is no need to lead us here, to be so brave, for this Loss you get a huge pass to just "be". Even with your understanding and peace with your moms passing, please remember you are still a daughter who lost a mom and the complexities of pain and loss and grief are mysterious, hold on tight you will need yourself in the times to come. also know you are surrounded by love, light and all that is good in this world to ease your pain and this is something you have created, ...wonder in this grace!
Your Healing Journey
Tama;
What a wonderful message about your mom and your deep complex relationship with her. I wish you peace and insight in your healing journey with the passing of your mother. I am on my own journey as well as my brother passed away on June 9, 2011 from his fiercely fought battle with cancer. Be kind and caring to yourself.
Your Hollyhock student,
Barbara
Your healing journey
Your healing journey
Peace
I don't know about you, but when my mom passed I felt her presence besides me more then ever. After a few months, I didn't feel her presence that much anymore. I feel she was on to her next journey. I have regrets too, but if we knew better at the time, we would of done better. That goes for ourselves and our mothers. We have an opportunity to get it right now "be the present". Choose PEACE.
Your Mom
Your blog is going to re-think my impatience with my Mom.
We are Italian, close to Jewish Mom's. She is also 83 and we have always been very close, to close sometimes!! Lately, she is not the same fun Mom, sometimes she forgets, sometimes she is to quick with a smart remark and most of he time it is all about her, where ever she is, thence the impatience steps in. I love Mom and call her every morning at 6:00 and I take her somewhere every week to spend time, but guilt has stepped in, because I am not as happy spending time with her and her demands. Thank you, I am going to step back and wish one day she was here to dominate the conversation and she isn't!! And one day I will be her and wish I didn't see the look on my daughters faces of impatience!! Thank you!
A Billion Thank Yous
I have been reading absolutely everyone of these posts and they have helped to heal my heart more than i can say. it feels like a support group gathered round. I am so touched, moved, GRATEFUL for your support and love. And for the healing you're now taking into the world. Thank you all who shared, and i will keep reading these. LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!!!! Tama
Your writings echo in my heart....
Dear Tama,
From the first time I opened your book, through every other piece I've been fortunate enough to read - and now sharing in your emotions with your mother's passing .......it all echo's in my heart. The words always ring true. You seem to write what I feel and cannot express like you do - thank you for speaking my heart without knowing it.
As for Mum, I don't think I will ever again feel impatient or wish she would stop telling her own stories without giving others a chance to tell their's - instead I will remind myself that this is HER time to share, to shine and drink in the attention she enjoys and simply be loved. My Mom turned 85 July 14th.
I have tried to live by the motto "Whatever good I can do, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again". I will add to this "What love I can share, let me share it now, for he/she may not cross my path again".
With much love and a warm embrace - Princess
I so appreciate your
I so appreciate your vulnerability, Tama. Thank you for sharing.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Ken
Sending love....now and always..
Oh Tama,
I am so saddened to hear this news. I remember so clearly you speaking lovingly of your mother in many of the Course in Miracle classes that I attended at your house. I could so relate to your struggles in your relationship with her as they so closely resembled my relationship with my mother. You are such an inspiration in how you transcended those issues and transformed your relationship. How wonderful that she was so proud of you and spent her last hours sharing her love and admiration for you with your Omega students.
I am sending you much love at this time and want you to know you are in my heart so frequently. I love and miss you dear friend. Sending a big hug from RI.--XOXO Nancy Harris
Beautiful, Tama!
What a beautiful honoring and reflection about your mother, Tama. Mark and I are thinking of you fondly and in the light of love. You are so honest and loving. It made my heart open and want to cry at the same time. Thank you for sharing your heart with us all.
Much love, Michele and Mark Colchin
Sudden deaths ...
Dear Tama,
Oh, how I wept when I read your message!
Thank you for sharing about your mother's passing. My dad died suddenly last winter.
What you stated is so true and powerful:"Everything you do now, will save you pain later."
Because I did just this I was able to have a relationship though far from ideal with my father for the past few years of his life despite our painful past.
Sincerely, April
Sudden deaths ...
Dear Tama,
Oh, how I wept when I read your message!
Thank you for sharing about your mother's passing. My dad died suddenly last winter.
What you stated is so true and powerful:"Everything you do now, will save you pain later."
Because I did just this I was able to have a relationship though far from ideal with my father for the past few years of his life despite our painful past.
Sincerely, April
Thoughts of peace, comfort, and love for you and your family
Dear Tama,
Everyone who has posted has expressed so well what I would like to say to you. Thank you for sharing such a intimate part of your journey, and for reminding us to be present with those we love, and to tell them we love them.
I love to hear Abraham interpreted by Esther Hicks, as they describe the "death" experience, which they assure us is a fiction. It changed my own feelings of "survivor's guilty" into envy!
Much love.
Thank you
Dear Tama,
Thank you for sharing something so dear and personal with us. The peace you hold in your heart is a great teacher. Sending you hugs and love.
Love,
Simone
Beautiful
So, so sorry to hear of your loss. Thank you for your willingness to share your love and insight about your relationship with your dear mother. She's a part of the Golden light that surrounds you (and the rest of us).
You've such a talent for making universal the thoughts that we all hold privately. What a gift and a blessing that is. Mom is proud.
Thank You
Dear Tama, Thank you so much for your gift of this blog post and for your willingness to share your thoughts and feelings. I am moved and inspired by your words and found so much to relate to just as so many of your readers have already expressed. Sending prayers and appreciation your way. Blessings to you. Amanda
So sorry
Dear Tama,
It is almost 6 years since I lost my mom. I wasn't there for her either. I had turned off the phones that weekend and was busy moving. She chose to make her transition when neither my sister or I could be around. I had alot of guilt to work through but I eventually realized that I had done what I thought was best in the moment. The fact that I hadn't visited her for over a month, even though I drove right past her nursing home the day she died haunted me for a long time. But I believe that just as there are no perfect mothers, there are no perfect daughters. We're just who we are.
As evolved as we like to think we are, death seems to bring us to our knees so we can do some soul-searching. It helped me realize how important loved ones are and there isn't a day when I don't tell my partner how much I love him.
You were a gift to your mom in so many ways and as I write this I still remember the workshop you did for me in Vancouver when you imitated your mom's Jewish accent. You brought her to life for all of your audiences as I am sure you will continue to do in your own special way.
Know you are loved, she is loved and big hugs to you and Paul.
Jan Janzen
Bless this day and every day for you
Dear Tama,
Your message and the story of your mother is so beautifully told and felt. Know that I am there for you and for your mother. I loved meeting Janice and having lunch with her at Einstein's several years ago. She was so unabashedly proud of you. I had serious issues with my own mother, now gone 3 years, and even reading your account now and your feelings about your mom and the acknowledgments you made of her difficult childhood and difficulties she had expressing herself to you, those all help me resolve even now the feelings I had with my own mother. I love her more and see how she tried in her own way to love me and all of her children. I hope your mother is dancing now and I wish for my mother the same. They deserved it all along.
Thank you for sharing yourself so openly, clearly.
Much love,
Dana
My heartfelt condolences
Thank you for your open, honest words. I was in tears as I was reading, because I could relate to the frustration and the sadness - and the love, especially the love, because that is what counts above all else. I love your wishes for your mom to have a 'Hallmark" childhood, and share that wish for my mom as well.
Again, I am very sorry for your loss,
Brenda
condolences
Tama, Take heart....Time will soften the edges and ease your burden, it just takes awhile. We all seem to carry a few burdens. Blessings to you and yours, you are such an inspiration to us all! fran haskins, Loveland, Colorado
Dancing with Rainbows
Hey Tama, Thank you for sharing about your Mom, you, and your relationship. My Dad passed a few days later on 7/2y/11 doing what he loved -- putting up hay. Similarly, I have spent much of my live and learning dealing with "male authority figures" probably from issues brought up when I chose my dad. Gratefully, we put family first, made it a priority, took trips together, many family reunions, and special connections. We spent a week at the beach in Galveston, TX, in June -- two houses, 14 people, four generations. No regrets. Also grateful that his was a very quick, albeit unexpected, passing. Grateful for both of us that he did not suffer a slow letting go. And, he (at 83) had been saying that he just wanted "someone to find him in the field with his boots on". And, that's just what happened. He got it HIS way. There were 600-700 people at the funeral and countless cards, emails, and facebook posts about what a great man he was, how he was "like a dad" to many, his crooked smile, his sense of humor, and positive attitude. So, we got to learn even more about the impact he had on numerous friends, families, and even strangers. The day after the funeral, my great niece (Jayda, 3) and I were dancing in the rain and doing the hokey pokey in the driveway. After the rain -- came out a brilliant double rainbow that ended over the field where dad was haying -- so, Jayda and I were able to wave to the sky and say, "Hi, Granddad". I'm pretty sure he was waving back. Peace and Blessings to you, my friend.
Tama, I love your openness
Tama, I love your openness and honesty. You have captured the experience of this time with your mother so authentically. Thank you for shining the light for all of us. Sometimes living fully in life is about experiencing the loss and journeying through it. Your words are a good road map for the journey. With love, Phyllis
Your Mother's Death
My dear Tama, may you remember to treat yourself with tenderness in this unique time. Thank you, as always, for your honesty, which is so very attractive. I sat a lone vigil at my darling, difficult mother's deathbed, my sister and aunts having refused to visit her. She had been a gossip and harsh critic, had burned many family bridges over the years, was a meddlesome neighbor. I was so sad for her and angry to be alone on such an occasion. It was awful to watch her struggle into her last morning. It was springtime, there was a tree in blossom outside her window, a bird was singing and I described all of this to her as she was lying there, eyes closed, breath rattling and rasping for hours. It was in London, my hometown in UK, where I'd flown from California to help arrange hospice care at her home, but she'd fallen and was taken to a nearby nursing facility before I arrived. Your agonizingly slow train ride reminded me of the helpless feelings, the shock and final realization when I arrived, that the relationship as I had known it had evaporated, along with my sense of time itself. She died on the day after Mother's Day and so I took home with me the gift I'd brought, my children's cards; I have them still. The busyness of dealing with details, paperwork, phone calls, clearing out her tiny, filthy flat, had an odd numbing effect and covered up the tears and grief that were yet to come and indeed followed. The "firsts" (holidays, birthdays, anniversaries) without her were especially poignant. Allow yourself extra space to breathe, rest, as these times come up on the calendar. Nobody else can ever fill the huge Mother's Corner, fragrant with its fierce love - it is sacred ground. My heart is with you and your family as you ride the waves of grief. It will not be ignored, nor should it be. Hold hands with it. You will know what to do.
Thank you
Tama,I sit here with tears in my eyes. thank you for sharing your story. There are 2 messages that I received. One, don't feel guilt about what you did not do. Your Mother was simply happy to be a part of your life and what you were doing. That was her reward. Secondly was for my parents who are in their 80s. My Dad has just gone into a facility leaving my Mom at home by herself with mild congnitive impairment. After all of the worry and angst, Mom's memory has improved now that she isn't so fatigued with Dad's care. Dad is getting up and walking after a year confined to a wheelchair. All is good. I have had the knowledge since the 1990's that I could lose my parents at anytime and I live across the continent from them. After a period of 5 years without a trip home, I have gone home every year since then because that is what is importent to them, and me. My younger brother asks how I cope being away during this time of transition. I do what I can and that is enough. I am blessed because I have 2 brothers who are there and are doing the best they can too. Life will never be the same but life is good.
Blessings,
Karen
Thank you Tama for sharing
Thank you Tama for sharing your experience and wisdom. You have helped me realize the importance of slowing down to love the people around us. My mother, who is only in her 60's, has stage 4 breast cancer and each time she undergoes another CT scan it shows the cancer has spread a little bit more. Often times when we talk I find myself getting impatient and annoyed and ready to end the call, meanwhile forgetting her time, and my time with her is limited. You have inspired me to schedule that flight to see her and reminded me that when I am with her on the phone to be present in the moment and deliciously love each other.
From one heart to another...
Tama I am so sorry to hear about your mother. And while none of us can ever know exactly how someone else feels in these types of situations, your story resonates with me.
My stepfather passed away 3 years ago from an oxycontin addiction. We all knew he was going downhill but felt helpless in terms of what to do. Two weeks before he died I wrote him a letter - I mailed it but it didn't reach him in time, so he passed away before I had a chance to express to him how I felt. At first, it was really hard for me to come to grips with this. I agonized over the unread letter...but deep down I know that he received my message somehow and all is well. He is in a better place, no longer in pain, and I've come to a lot of clarity and forgiveness about our relationship.
Be gentle with yourself during this time. We are here for you and holding a safe and sacred space for you to grieve.
my heart is your heart .....
my heart is your heart .....
Acceptance
Thank you, Tama, for writing from the depth of your heart.
My mother is coming to visit us for a couple of month this winter. It's still a few months to go till she arrives but I feel how already now I internally prepare for the intense time, how fearful I am inside to lose my balance. After reading your story I thought that may be our parents is the biggest test for us for the radical acceptance of Life and Love.
You're never old enough
I lost my mom in November 2007. She'd been sick for several years, but was fairly stable. She fell and broke her hip in the nursing home. They were able to operate, as it was the top of the femur. A week later, after physical therapy on a night she told me she was going to bed and not getting up for anyone, she apparently suffered a heart attack, and tried to walk to the door for help. She fell and broke the other hip. She was cognizant, with no dementia, to the end.
My daughter and I later sang to her as she passed that evening. Ours was a very complicated relationship, but I'd come to terms with it, and our last decade together was the best, and the most difficult. That night I learned that we are never old enough to lose our moms. Period. I miss her still. I wish I could talk to her about so many things.
I never felt like I was good enough, had done enough, etc. but I learned from the people working at the nursing home that in reality, I was the light in her world, and she described me almost as capable of walking on water. I would have liked to have heard it from her, but at least I heard it.
I too wish her a better life next time around. She was born in 1930 and literally grew up dirt poor, once living in a one room shack in Wyoming that did have a dirt floor. One daffodil grew outside the front door. After her death, daffodils I'd planted a few years earlier and had presumed stolen by squirrels suddenly rose and bloomed the first spring after her death. It seemed to me it was her final goodbye.
Hug your moms while you have them. Love them in spite of whatever - and understand that the "whatever" came from something that they went through. And for all you know, they tell everyone else you are perfect, the greatest thing that ever happened. Just love her... and your dads, too. You won't get to keep them forever.
Blessings -
JJS
Love is a verb
Dear Tama,
I met you and Janice in Cold Spring, NY a couple of years ago. It was the first time your mother had ever been in the audience at a talk you were giving. I’d recently moved back to NY to live with and take care of my own mother at the time. I remember feeling awed at your courage, not just to speak to an audience, but to speak to an audience that included your mother! You were unplugged, a vivacious and super-charged spirit, with a little trepidation but without reservation, in the presence of the woman who likely could be your toughest critic and most fervent ally. Her candor was startling and funny, and her pride in you was evident. I’m honored to have met her for even those few moments. I’m honored to have been present to such a radiant demonstration of love and authenticity on both your parts.
Your tribute to Janice stirred my heart, not only for the beauty of who you each are to the other, but as a reminder in my own life. I’m still here with my Mom who is 88 now. The honeymoon phase of my reentry has long since passed, and I’m humbled to say I have sometimes resorted to living small, letting irritations and “what about me” thinking dim the privilege of my mission here. It is with this understanding that I extend my sincere condolences and wholehearted gratitude to you. In your time of loss your message of love and appreciation has inspired me to do a little course correcting. To remember that love is also a verb. It isn’t always convenient. It’s sometimes awkward, sometimes difficult, often challenging, and always rewarding when we choose to do it wholeheartedly, even with a little trepidation, but without reservation.
Thank you for the beautiful example of your life.
Love,
Teresa Kenas
Love All-Ways
All who have had any contact with you feel compelled to reach out and send you nothing but love and compassion. All things happen at exactly the right time for exactly the right reason. Even though there would never seem to be a right time to lose someone in your life the reasons slowly begin to make sense. Thank you for your words of wisdom and encouragement even during your moments of sadness. I hope our words comfort you and provided the same lifeline you’ve given us to move forward.
Love All-Ways,
Tamara
your loss
Thank you for sharing. I too lost my mom a few years ago, and I can relate to the last years when I learned to no longer judge her for what I wished she was, but got to know her for the amazing woman she was. After her passing and to this day, I still think of the "what ifs", "what I could have done differently on those last days", but I have come to learn that I was fully present in every way possible, and mostly that I was completely with her with total unconditional love.
A gift to me was that at the end of my mom's life, she got to really "see me" for the woman I had grown to be and she was so very proud. Your mother got to see the amazing woman you are, not only as her daughter, but as the woman you are.
My deepest sympathy and prayers are with you. You know she is with you always, and I wish like you that she is having one great hallmark card experience. In these days ahead be kind to yourself, allow time for extra self-nurturing and self-love.
Again, thank you for sharing and for being the incredible woman you are. Be at peace.
With light,
Terri
Sharing Loss
Hi Tama, I'm looking forward to reading your post because four days ago, I also lost someone I love very much. Also sudden and completely unexpected. Here one moment, sending me a text, and the next gone.
My heart and my head know that he is thriving. I know that his soul did exactly what it needed to do for him, and for all that are connected to him. I can actually think of his passing as a gift to all of us, one that will allow us each to move forward with a greater sense of purpose. I know that our hearts break, break open, to be open. Yet at the moment, the pain is unbearable.
I'm writing to share your loss, and joy, and celebration.
Polly
Thank you
Thank you for sharing your journey with us.
I am going this morning to visit my Mom who is in ICU, following a heart attack and second stroke over a week ago.
I am bringing your words with me "Letting go and moving into new circumstances is not a death. It is the birth of a larger part of yourself." I will read this to my mother who is unresponsive, I believe she can hear it. I also hear it for myself.
Light and Love
Namaste
Janice Kieves
Tama,
I can only begin to express the depth of my apprecitation that you've chosen to write your way through this process. Like you, I finally understood my often difficult relationship with my mother is my owrn personal "EST Seminar."
I'm humbled and grateful this morning that my mom is an hour away by car, the touch of a button away by phone, and always in my heart. Your story reminds me that she may choose to exit at any moment. That awareness empowers me to find that extra bit of patience, that next level of compassion, and gives me what it takes to say,"I love you, Mom" when she needs to hear it.
My love and prayers are with you and yours.
Becky