January 14, 2014 - A personal recap for family members
Good Morning Family Members
I wanted to give you a glimpse into Mom's passing last night. I hope that is OK.
She rested peacefully all day and into the evening with daughters and friends around her. Of course, she looked beautiful with radiant color in her face - not a wrinkle to be found.
I lay with her for quite a long time. When she took her last few breaths, lipstick on, I held one of her hands and Cindy held the other. She was very peaceful. Cindy, my friend Patty and her husband Tom, were there visiting quietly in the candle lit living room. She loved both of them and of course, they her. When she decided to go she let us know instantly and we accompanied her gently through her last breath. Patricia and Louie showed up a few minutes later along with Chan. Sharon had been there earlier but had already tucked herself in at home.
We prayed over her and the Catholics among us anointed her with holy water. Other family members of Patricia's showed up soon and we held a prayer circle around her. We visited, told stories, laughed and mourned deeply well into the night. Chan went over to Fresh & Easy and got us a frozen pizza. Patty had brought salmon, cheese and crackers. I made coffee and opened one of Mom’s cheap champagnes. We nibbled a bit. The champagne was horrible.
As the candles burned low, those from UC Irvine came around midnight and escorted her out. We were all so grateful that no one was around to see her final exit from the home she loved. It was as private as it could be. When we walked back to her patio from the parking lot, the light above her patio blinked off and then on again.
We are all staying home today and resting. I am profoundly touched as many of us are. Mom was more than special. God bless. Thank you for being you and to everyone who reads this. Love, Susan
March 1, 2015 - My Journal of Coming Home - Stress Needs More Than Good Food
When I returned home after my Mom’s passing I was more than exhausted. Every bit of myself had been used up, and I was at a loss for what to do with myself. Of course I had high ideals. I knew there was a new beginning in me that did not need to worry about Mom anymore, field phone calls, talk to doctors and make vital decisions with my siblings. I was going to have new space. I could catch up on my work and begin to live out some of my own dreams. Of course I was going to miss Mom and mourn the loss, but I knew she lived a good life and was taken care of beautifully before she passed. There would be fresh air to breath in my life. This is what my mind told me.
Then I hit the wall. My body went into some kind of shock while it finally let down its defense’s and began to rest and grieve. I was so out of balance that I did not know what to do to get in balance. I felt I needed something but did not know what. My heart ached like it had not for years. I began by addressing the body, my best skill. I started by alleviating all sugar, alcohol, caffeine, and sleeping aides, all of which helped me while in California to travel from bed to bed, rent cars, drive on late night freeways, eat food I did not care for and keep myself up when I wanted to fall. I was too wrapped up in the part, and the story that was playing out to stop. I just kept moving. Now it was over.
The cleansing helped, yet a bit brutal, along with long hours of sleep. But I needed more. What did I need? I was bouncing against the walls helplessly roaming about the house like a lost child. The people I live with along with my close friends hardly said much to me when I returned home. “What’s going on?” I thought. When people close to you die, don’t friends and neighbors bring you pies and casseroles? Where are mine? I want a pie. No one came. OK, I understood. Perhaps it was not meaningful to them in the same way as it was for me, or they wanted to leave me alone. I tried bags of chips while trying to work at my computer only to pass the time unfocused. I cried relentlessly every day, playing over the circumstances of Mom’s passing. I missed her terribly. I was blown away by the first transition I had ever experienced. My mind watched her disappear before my very eyes over and over. It was hard but I just kept going. I prayed for help. "What do I need", I kept asking myself. I need something.
Then it finally came a week and a half later. My next-door neighbor, who has a huge heart, sent me a text to ask if she could come over for a quick visit, that she had something for me. Oh goodie, I thought. She came in a hurry as her kids were waiting for her in the car. She placed a beautiful orchid on the counter with a card, a fresh bowl of chili, and a jar of soup she made the night before. Yeah, finally! I got some attention. It was not a pie, but I was excited. It felt good. As she lowered the items to the counter, her hands now empty, she reached out to me with her arms and heart opened wide, looking me straight in the eye with such compassion, she said, “It must be so hard.” She hugged me tenderly like a Mom might. That was what I needed, a hug of loving compassionate sympathy, and someone meeting me in my pain.
Perhaps you know of someone who has lost someone, or perhaps you are in pain yourself. Being able to express it and have people meet you there in the depth of compassion is so healing. There is something about that union that helps to transform the grief and move it through. The pain comes again, but I think it helps to begin the journey. Now, when I feel sad and go to that deep place of mourning, I remember her words and the feeling of her meeting me. It allows me to say, “Yes, it is hard and that is OK. It is life”. Meeting it in myself helps me to greet it head on, feel it and move it through. This attitude is playing a significant part in my healing.
Being in emotional pain is very stressful on the body as I am finding out. My system has surely wobbled as my emotions have. When the emotional body hurts then the physical body hurts too. If you are having any kind of experience that is emotionally challenging I think it is vital that you take impeccable care of yourself and do something nurturing as often as possible, because it will take a toll. I am learning this and hope that my sharing will help awaken you to meet others in their time of grief without fear. Being there for each other is vital to our healing.
Every day I feel better and better, yet I still might love to get a pie.
