One Year

June 15, 2009 /

Mom in her late teens or early 20s.
Mom in her late teens or early 20s.
It’s been a year now since my mom died. It’s been a tough year. It’s starting to get easier, but of course, I still miss her a lot. I got an email from my sister in law the other day (Richard’s wife…her father passed away in November, after struggling with bypass surgery, then cancer, then stroke, over a 5 year period), and she said something that really resonated with me. She said that what hurts isn’t so much that they’re gone, but what they had to go through in order to go. That’s it exactly.

Of course I would still be sad if my mom had died suddenly in her apartment, or perhaps in the hospital in Anchorage. I would still miss her terribly. But those last months were so painful, so maddening, so frustrating for everyone involved, and for no one more than her. So of course there’s that part of me that is glad she’s no longer in pain, no longer suffering. But yeah, it still occupies my thoughts, it still hurts.

And my memories of that day, the day she died, are not good ones. We live close by a BART station (Bay Area Rapid Transit), and they were just finishing building a new garage at the time. Right when the phone rang, at around 2am, with the news that she had died, a fire alarm went off at the garage. It went off for what seemed like hours, only to be silenced, and then set off again. I barely heard it. The blood rushing through my head, the pounding in my ears, my beating heart, my confused thoughts, the pain and disbelief pushed it so far into the background that I didn’t really hear it. Every once in awhile, Ted would say, “When are they going to turn that damn thing off?”, and then I would listen, and I would hear it. But to me, it just seemed sort of appropriate. There should be noise and confusion outside…my mother died.

And now, whenever that stupid alarm goes off in the middle of the night (thanks BART), it takes me, just for a second, back to that confusing night, the confusing day that followed, all of those tears as I told everyone my sad news. Ugh. Stupid alarm.

So here we are, a year later. I’m still sad. Ted wants to help me, but I don’t know what anyone can do to help, except let me cry when I need to, which he does. Hold me when I need it, which he does. Let me grieve in my own time, which he does. Slowly I’m starting to come out of this sad grieving time, and for that, I am very glad. But of course, I still miss her, and I suspect I always will.

WEIRD UPDATE ~ Just received an email from my brother, telling me that mom’s apartment building caught on fire a couple of weeks ago. She was on the second floor, which wasn’t damaged in the fire. Everyone got out ok. The house next door burned to the ground, though again, thankfully, everyone out OK. That place was just not safe. Not up to code, electrically. Not that this has anything to do with anything. Just weird to hear.

14 Comments

  • BiblioMom

    June 15, 2009 at 9:32 am

    I still miss my Mom and it’s been almost 4 years. It feels just like yesterday in some ways and then other days it feels like forever ago. The other day my 3 year old asked me if I had a Mom. Her innocent question brought back the sadness that I feel at her never knowing her Grandma. It does get better but so far it’s never been gone.

  • Donna

    June 15, 2009 at 11:27 am

    It’s been 11 years since my Dad passed away. We had to make the decision to “pull the plug” or not. There were 3 of us, my vote made the decision “pull”. I had doubts for the longest time as to whether I made the right choice. They subsided after about 5 years and now I seem to be at peace with the decision. It still does hurt after all these years, but the pain is giving way to remembering the good times and keeping his memory alive among us, especially Spencer. He was so young when his Papa died. THere is still pain every April 16th, cos I can’t help but miss him, but there are also memories and the love I carry in my heart.

    Big hugs for you today, and I hope you find peace and comfort in the many wonderful memories you have…

  • Cherry

    June 15, 2009 at 11:42 am

    Oh J!
    I wish I could say or do something to help the pain. I think its beautiful that you miss her so, because that says how much you love her.

    HUGS!

  • Joan

    June 15, 2009 at 6:07 pm

    I’m sorry. I can’t quite relate to all this yet. I feel as though I’ve lost my Mom as soon as she was diagnosed though she’s still here for the time being. Her chemo was so harsh. The radiation to her brain changed her emotionally. It’s been a long 11 months.

    • J

      June 15, 2009 at 9:17 pm

      Joan, I hope that there are many years before you can relate. I hope that your mom recovers and is OK for many years. As to your feeling as though you lost her last year when she was diagnosed, I have a friend going through this same thing, this mourning the father she had even though she still has him…he’s just very different. I would recommend a book I read a bit ago, which actually spoke some to being the child of a very ill parent as well, called, “When Parents Die”, which is targeted specifically to adult children. I wrote about it here: http://jellyjules.com/?p=1815

      My thoughts are with you and your mom.

  • Barbara

    June 15, 2009 at 6:55 pm

    I remember many years ago I found my Mum crying. When I asked her what was wrong she told me she missed her Mum, who had died some 23 years earlier when I was a baby. My Mum was 61 and still missing her mother. As a young woman I just didn’t ‘get it’. Now I do. After almost 9 years the physical pain of the grief is gone. I am 40 and still long for and miss my Mum.

    Be kind to yourself as you continue to process your grief. Know that you are not alone.

    Peace!

  • Karen MEG

    June 17, 2009 at 8:32 pm

    J, this is a very sad anniversary indeed. The grieving process is a very long one, as I’m finding out myself. I can totally understand, a year is still not a very long time at all. Of course you still miss your mom so very much, and the suffering made it worse, I’m sure.

    If anything makes it any “better” for us, is that it was, in the whole scheme of things, very short for Dad. Which I am so glad about, as he was already so ill in such a short time, so he didn’t have to suffer that long.

    This weekend, father’s day, is going to be another strange one for us. Our family is all scattered again, so, so different from a year ago when we got together as a family and celebrated. So different.

  • Starshine

    June 19, 2009 at 3:41 pm

    Hi J,

    I’m sorry that I missed this post, somehow, the day it was published. I’ve definitely been thinking about you lately. Yesterday was a tearful day for me, and I think part of that is just the anniversary grief. This time last year was a sad time.

    I’m sorry your heart still hurts sometimes, though that is natural.

    Sending you lots of love and a great big virtual hug,

    Tracy

  • Shelliza

    June 20, 2009 at 1:33 am

    Hi J. Has it been a year already? Wow! I know it’s been a tough year for you but at leat you’re surrounded by a wonderul, loving family. I still think of you and hope that with time your pain and grief will ease.

    P.S. What happened with your Mom’s cats?

    • J

      June 20, 2009 at 1:52 pm

      Shelliza, my brother and sister in law took them to a shelter in Juneau, after asking around to try to find homes for them. There is a wonderful organization in my town called Animal Rescue Foundation, and I asked if it was worthwhile to bring them down from Alaska to place them there, and they said that as long as the shelter is a good one, and it’s a no kill shelter, the cats are better off not going through the stress of being moved. Since the shelter in Juneau is both a good one, and no-kill, they felt comfortable that the boys would get good new homes. I wish they could have stayed together, and perhaps they did, but one thing I know is that they’ll adapt and be OK. 🙂