Two Hopes

I live in California, and at least once I year I visit my parents on the east coast.  About two years ago, as Mom and Dad drove me to the airport, Mom felt compelled to tell me she had two hopes for our family.  One hope is that her kids love each other, and the other hope is that we are all happy.  

Mom passed away a month ago, and our family came together in common grief for the week of her funeral.  We cried in front of each other.  We ate together.  We talked for hours and hours. Afterwards, I realized that Mom's final act, of dying, brought our family closer together.  Her final act of life was to help our family love each other.

So that's hope number one.  

Hope number two is happiness. Am I happy? Well, that's something I'm still working on. I try to remember that life is short and the best time to be happy is now.  I try to understand how I contribute to my inner drama.  And sometimes, I feel that Mom is in my heart and she wants me to be happy.

Heartbreaks and Hospice‏

In May 2013 my Mom suffered a major irreversible stroke.  Mom had a living will, so Dad placed her in hospice.  I took a leave of absence from work, and flew to Florida to help them however I could.  Mom passed away two weeks later.

Heartbreak #1:  When I first arrived at the hospice, I saw just a shadow of my Mom.  Almost everything about her as a person was gone.  All emotion had gone from her face and voice.  She could answer a few short questions, but nothing more, and sometimes she didn’t respond at all.

Heartbreak #2:  Mom occasionally asked for tea, and I would hold the cup while she sipped the tea.  And I would think “she held my cup for me a thousand times when I was a baby”.

Heartbreak #3: Dad and I were in the horrible situation of loving her dearly and wishing she would die.  We wondered if she was holding on because she was worried about us.  So, during her last few days, Dad and I told her she could go.  Dad told her he would be OK, and all his friends and relatives would take good care of him.  Dad told her she raised four wonderful children and there’s nothing more she needed to do.  I told her she had been a good Mom, and now her mother and brother Buddy were waiting for her in heaven.  And of course, my Dad and I could barely say these words without crying.

These heartbreaks were awful, just awful.  But I was grateful to be there.  I felt there was still a little piece of Mom left, and I wanted her to know she was loved.

And I’m grateful for a heartbreak I didn't have to endure.  About 25 years ago, I accepted that my parents weren’t perfect, and I decided to create a new future with them.  I told them I loved them and I thanked them for all they had done for me.  I told them I knew they did the best they could for me.  Since then, in ways large and small, I gave them love.  And so, as I sat in hospice, I didn’t have to endure the heartbreak of regret.  I had already told Mom everything I needed to say.