The Spirit of Mourning
Over the last few weeks, everyone has asked how I'm doing. Whether it's up front or they are hesitant, everyone asks. I don't want to say, "I'm OK" because I'm not. All I can answer with is, "I'm hanging in there".
It's been about 6 weeks since we found out my mother had cancer. It was weird at first because we didn't know how far along it was. It was hard when she went in for the initial biopsy. I think the group consensus was this could be her last Christmas or even Thanksgiving with us. There was hope, but there was also a downcast spirit.
Now to pause for a brief history lesson...
My mother spent the summer of 1991 in Vanderbilt for Bilateral Chronic Pneumonia. To my recollection, she was sedated the entire time and the doctors were making "best guesses" at her condition. Fast forward to today... On our way back from seeing my mother after having her biopsy in late October, I mentioned something about it. Debra said she was curious if I was ever going to talk to her about it because in the last 10 years, I've probably spoken a handful of words on the subject. Maybe being 14 at the time, my mind blocked out a lot of what was going on at that time. I don't know, but It's definitely not one of the happier times in my life. Being back there again was like reliving that all over again.
As I stated in an earlier e-mail/blog, the day of the biopsy I think I cried more than I had over the last year. Debra later asked me why? Well, without going into any unnecessary detail, I can say that my relationship with my mother over there last 10 years was rocky to say the least. At that moment, I decided to let go of all the crap, resentment and hurt. None of that mattered anymore. None of that matters anymore.
Just over 2 weeks ago, we were eating dinner and getting ready for our Village (aka Small Group) and my sister called to tell me they were rushing her to Vanderbilt because of some bleeding she was having. I think that night is when it really hit me. All the doctors that night gave answers that, to me, meant, "She may not make it through the night".
She spent the next 4 or 5 days in SICU before being moved to a regular room. The plan was to get her well enough to go home and make her remaining time here as comfortable as possible. That Monday, my father and sister were sitting around her bed as she slept. It seemed as if her pain was finally under some sort of control. The nurse came in to give her something to help with the pain and take her vitals. Before she could do anything, my mother took her last breath.
Everything seems so surreal. The visitation, the funeral, none if it feels real. Debra and I talked about how we'd tell Ximen. He's too young to understand, but will still have some memories of her. Phoenix will never know her outside of photographs.
I don't know how long it will be before I've worked through it. The whole time I've tried not to cry around any. I've tried to be strong and the shoulder for them to cry on. One of the biggest emotional breaking points was when my Aunt Vianna told me how my mother said to her that she never thought I'd meet anyone or get married. She said that she told her how proud she was of me that I had found someone and was raising a family. I can't remember the last time I heard her say that, but right then, just knowing that, I lost it. This is my mother, and I miss her.
A friend told me that it's been years since his mother died, and there are still days he just loses it. So when you feel the urge to ask me how I'm doing, go back and re-read this. It will be the same for years to come. It's only through God and all your prayers that my family and myself will be able to find peace and comfort. I have no doubt in my mind that my mother was at total peace with God when she left to join Him.
It's been about 6 weeks since we found out my mother had cancer. It was weird at first because we didn't know how far along it was. It was hard when she went in for the initial biopsy. I think the group consensus was this could be her last Christmas or even Thanksgiving with us. There was hope, but there was also a downcast spirit.
Now to pause for a brief history lesson...
My mother spent the summer of 1991 in Vanderbilt for Bilateral Chronic Pneumonia. To my recollection, she was sedated the entire time and the doctors were making "best guesses" at her condition. Fast forward to today... On our way back from seeing my mother after having her biopsy in late October, I mentioned something about it. Debra said she was curious if I was ever going to talk to her about it because in the last 10 years, I've probably spoken a handful of words on the subject. Maybe being 14 at the time, my mind blocked out a lot of what was going on at that time. I don't know, but It's definitely not one of the happier times in my life. Being back there again was like reliving that all over again.
As I stated in an earlier e-mail/blog, the day of the biopsy I think I cried more than I had over the last year. Debra later asked me why? Well, without going into any unnecessary detail, I can say that my relationship with my mother over there last 10 years was rocky to say the least. At that moment, I decided to let go of all the crap, resentment and hurt. None of that mattered anymore. None of that matters anymore.
Just over 2 weeks ago, we were eating dinner and getting ready for our Village (aka Small Group) and my sister called to tell me they were rushing her to Vanderbilt because of some bleeding she was having. I think that night is when it really hit me. All the doctors that night gave answers that, to me, meant, "She may not make it through the night".
She spent the next 4 or 5 days in SICU before being moved to a regular room. The plan was to get her well enough to go home and make her remaining time here as comfortable as possible. That Monday, my father and sister were sitting around her bed as she slept. It seemed as if her pain was finally under some sort of control. The nurse came in to give her something to help with the pain and take her vitals. Before she could do anything, my mother took her last breath.
Everything seems so surreal. The visitation, the funeral, none if it feels real. Debra and I talked about how we'd tell Ximen. He's too young to understand, but will still have some memories of her. Phoenix will never know her outside of photographs.
I don't know how long it will be before I've worked through it. The whole time I've tried not to cry around any. I've tried to be strong and the shoulder for them to cry on. One of the biggest emotional breaking points was when my Aunt Vianna told me how my mother said to her that she never thought I'd meet anyone or get married. She said that she told her how proud she was of me that I had found someone and was raising a family. I can't remember the last time I heard her say that, but right then, just knowing that, I lost it. This is my mother, and I miss her.
A friend told me that it's been years since his mother died, and there are still days he just loses it. So when you feel the urge to ask me how I'm doing, go back and re-read this. It will be the same for years to come. It's only through God and all your prayers that my family and myself will be able to find peace and comfort. I have no doubt in my mind that my mother was at total peace with God when she left to join Him.
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