Posts Tagged ‘mother’s death’

Mother’s Day Sadness

For the past eighteen years, I have felt especially sad on Mother's Day. 

Don't get me wrong – my husband and family were wonderful, provided beautiful flowers, poignant cards, a book of exquisite poems by Ted Kooser, a precious little stuffed animal, and took me out to dinner. I loved it.

All of the love and fun, however, did not assuage the sadness I felt on Sunday. My beloved mother died eighteen years ago today and in 1995, May 14 was Mother's Day. 

I am thinking of the day of her death and want to share an excerpt from The Last Violet: Mourning My Mother, Moving Beyond Regret:

 

May 14—I am grateful I have the presence of mind to get up early and pack everything I’ll need for the Big Spring Piano Recital and Graduation Recital this afternoon. I am thankful that I decide at the last minute to go help Jan [my sister]bathe Mother before Les and I go to the church.

 

We set everything up; the first program goes beautifully. During the reception between the two concerts, Renée [my sister-in-law]comes to tell us that Mother’s condition is deteriorating rapidly. Her respirations are only three per minute. Although I have to desert the five precious girls who are giving their last recital, my only thought is to get to Mom in time.

 

Joy [our hospice nurse] had told us Friday that we were to keep her comfortable, giving her morphine as often as we noticed retraction. It would, as promised, relieve her sensation of suffocation and the struggling respiration. It is very efficient to give it in tiny amounts at short intervals. Karen [my daughter] prepares the medication; Nick [my physician brother] watches for retraction; I administer the doses. The rest of the family keeps vigil.

 

It is hard to continue giving morphine, knowing that it might hasten her death, but we have pledged that she will not suffer. Sometimes her teeth are clenched shut and I agonize that I am forcing her.

 

From 4:00 in the afternoon until 11:58, my eyes never leave her face and I am taking her pulse as it gradually fades, then stops. Her eyes are open, but she isn’t looking at us— her gaze focuses beyond us, and it is clear that she sees that which we cannot.

 

And so, on this Mother’s Day, my beloved mother dies. I gently close her mouth and hold her chin in place until it stays. I tuck the covers around her. She looks more peaceful than she has for eleven weeks—maybe more peaceful than she ever has.

 

We wait in silent good-bye, hearts breaking, until 2:35 a.m. when two men from the crematory come to take her body. They wrap her in a white sheet, twist the ends shut, and carry her out.

 

Dear God, I have no mother.

 

 

On Mother’s Birthday?!

(See end of post for special offer.)

I meant to post this yesterday, because September 20 is my mother's birthday, but life happened. Anyway, here we are today:

September 20, 1995 –

Today is Mother's birthday. It is a busy day for me. I have a presentation at 9:00 a.m.. at Southwest Medical Center here in Oklahoma City, a luncheon speech at Baptist Medical Center, and a reading at 5:30 p.m. before the Board of Directors of the Oklahoma City Chapter of the Komen Foundation.

I wonder briefly if my overscheduling the day has anything to do with the fact that it is the first birthday since my mother's death in May.

After Les and I fight the rain one last time and return to the hotel, weary and cold, I feel let down. I've been hoping against hope that our new grandchild, due next week, would arrive on Mom's birthday.

I try to call Keith and Kara several times, but the line is busy. It is already 10:30 p.m. I check my messages and there isn't even one saying that they have gone to the hospital. Kara's first labor was very long. I know it is too late. It is simply too late.

Fifteen mintues later, the phone rings. Keith says, "We did it. We have our little girl."

On Mother's birthday? Was Kirsten Nicole really born on Mother's birthday? Oh, joy of joy!

The circle of life continues.

(Excerpted from The Last Violet: Mourning My Mother, (c) 2002 Lois Tschetter Hjelmstad)

Special offer for This Path We Share still stands through September 30 – just $10 (regular price $18.95) with FREE SHIPPING. A wonderful present for newly marrieds, harrieds, and old-timers like us. You might even like one yourself. Limit 3 to a customer, please.

Go to the BOTTOM of page on  This Path We Share and click on "Order Direct Add to Cart." You can order as a guest if you don't have a Paypal account. If you want to send a check, or have a problem, call me at 303.781.8974. 

We offer a money-back guarantee. If you hate the book, I'll feel terrible, of course, but send it back and we will (sort of happily) refund the $10.

What can you lose? Do it now. I'll even personalize the book for you.

If you aren't interested, please keep following my blog, anyway! I love you all.

(I will include a copy of The Last Violet, regular price, FREE SHIPPING.)