Mom says goodbye

Recently close friends lost their mothers, passing after years of failing health, Alzheimer’s, and the lot. We followed their support and care, talked about it together.

Both couples, adult children were at their mother’s side when Mom passed.

Sister in law and her brother let out unearthly howls. Their mother had been gone for so long with disease yet the moment was wrenching, crushing. They could not be consoled.

Close friends were holding their mother in their arms, brushing her hair, giving care she needed, which they could, putting Vaseline on her dry lips. Those lips had kissed them so much, so sweetly she could not imagine on day NOT being able to kiss her child. That day came.

We talk about this a lot, as grieving may end but sadness never passes. There is so much to get out; it takes a lot of wine to get through the visits when this conversation starts. I end up screwed tightly to the couch, my legs crossed and feet crossed and jaw clenched. I nod a lot.

My old buddy in Texas, his mom passed recently too. Wrote an online condolence for Millie. She was the mom that welcomed all of us, a rangy, clumsy bag of high school hairy legs more interested in getting high than school, or anything else for that matter. He husband died earlier, cancer took Edward when we were still in Jr high. Millie NEVER complained about us. I know now how great she was, what she must have known.  My friend called and we talked, the conversation ended with wet faces.

There is no relationship as powerful as mothers and child, no bond or love or knowledge that compares. We destroy ourselves when we treat it poorly. Matters not how sick Mom might be, how crazy or mean. Not a bit. When they leave we cannot be children anymore. We become finally, sadly, adults.

Inside I want to know if they do or if they will miss us. Do they, in their ethereal existence wonder about our lives and cares? In their existence are they remembering the times and our memories which we hold so dear? Do they hear us?

They sure did when they were with us. Sometimes they cared too much and it smothered. “Oh how I pine to be smothered” my friend said. “Oh how she could care too much and meddle, but now it seems so right and I miss it so much.”

Some moms are still around, still together or we’re caring for them, or wish we could. This turn of life is easier than others, we’re worn and callous. The weather has taken its toll.

The day will come when it will be our turn and we’ll rise to that sad task. And never be the same afterwards.