MOTHERS' DAY

Throughout Mothers Day I kept thinking over the last times I saw my Mother and my Mother-in-law and how much I missed them. Very different women, yet exceptional in their unique ways. My Mother was a vibrant, intelligent agitator whose opinions never wavered when she believed she was right. She was known as "Shirley from Kentwood" on talk radio and was a frequent contributor. 

A warrior when she needed to be with endless energy until illness insisted on a prominent place in her life. I remember my sister telling of her battle to access her child when she went through a divorce. Her ex and his Mother were not letting her near her son, not at least until my Mother got involved. She marched into the house, her eyes flashing red my sister said, and in no uncertain terms took possession of situation and boy. No quarter given..

Our family is passionate and fiercely protective. Though my husband was more reserved he had to be ready for bear hugs and noisy debates when he visited. His family, just as family oriented, but quieter in their responses and Dad/Papa was the authority. I always believed my MIL was the power behind the throne as she diplomatically and deftly maneuvered the outcome. What a Grandma. Ten times to the playground if that is what her granddaughter wanted and ice cream for breakfast. But on weeklong camping trips and solo visits to Florida the two of them forged a bond of friendship and secrets and I know my daughter misses her deeply. When my FIL plunged into that dark hell of Alzheimer's disease, she quietly took up the mantle of command openly and with strength.

Both women were adored by their husbands well past 50 years of marriage. My Father a lost soul for many months after she passed, would visit every week and we just waited and listened to whatever he wanted to communicate until he slowly came back to himself. My MIL was widowed before her husband was gone as he slipped further and further away from her in his memories. Tethered to an oxygen hose she carried on alone as the man she loved since she was a teenager became a child again. 

I had no inkling when Mother went into the nursing home around Mothers' Day that she would never return to lovingly harass husband and family. The matriarch to the end. My sister steadfastly visited each day as did my Father encouraging her return to her throne. In fact, the one time my sister left for the weekend for a well-deserved rest and a concert she admonished my Mother not to do anything drastic while she was gone. Ever contrary she did. 

One of the last times I saw her I remembered she said she really longed for the taste of home-made custard. I "who do not cook" needed to grant that wish and made my first egg custard. After smuggling the container in, as it was definitely not on her diet, I gleefully presented the contraband. Being in a puckish mood she insisted I feed it to her. So I sat on the bed and we talked and laughed about life and I fed her little spoonfuls. Then when I rose to leave, she performed a little ritual that we used to do when I was a kid going to bed,. I should have known, but trust me you don't. 

A few months before my Father and I had to explain to her how ill she was and that we needed to know her wishes. Her vehement denial that she was going anywhere but home comforted me that she would overcome this setback. I also saw her fear as they moved her to a different room and now it was our job to defend her and reassure her that we wouldn't let them abandon her. A few months later she told us she was ready and in true Sweet fashion dramatically collapsed in the doorway as she and my Father were walking and was gone. I know that haunted my Father until he died.

Most people found my MIL, Jean, a quiet, sweet lady though the fire was just below the surface. She and I would have wonderful discussions and I know I could tell her anything. The last few years of her life she carted an oxygen tank around wherever she went. But that didn't stop her from enjoying her children and grandchildren whenever she could. Not in the greatest health, she came to be with us and her new great grandson for Christmas, 2013; the year when the power went out. We woke in panic when we heard the alarm on her oxygen tank ringing. The rest of the day was frantically securing hotel rooms and hot food. She took it in stride. Her next trip a few months later occurred when the house sprung a leak-a gas leak-and we had to abandon ship. Undeterred she weathered another hotel and a celebration of her great grandson's 2nd birthday.

Upon our last visit Jean showed me her exercise chart and asked me to help motivate her to perform the rituals. Like any good drill sergeant, I barked out the numbers and pushed. Again oblivious, though it did seem odd in retrospect that it was so hard for her to catch her breath. Within days we got the call to come soon. Arriving at the hospital she saw me and said "I'm so glad you came, I'll know you'll take care of things".  Yes, I'm the one who questions everything and is not afraid to ask for what I need, for others. A cursed blessing I suppose. After 3rd degreeing the doctor and chastising the nurse who said "she's just old" when I asked why she had such a rough night I knew I had to do something. 

Deja vu, they had given up on her. Although we got her to a better hospital and doctors who understood the connected symptoms her condition worsened. Again I volunteered to be the one to ask what her wishes were as her daughters were hurting too much to ask. As I bent over her poor intubated little body and asked her she made it very clear what she wanted. I remember I made a little choking sound and my sister in law's husband steadied me. I told the doctors we were ready for hospice. 

In a beautiful room overlooking Lake Michigan we spent the last few hours talking about everything but what was to happen and she slept. Of course, being the considerate woman she had always been, she waited until we left before she went on her way. 

I think they both passed as they lived. Hard but rewarding lives and wonderful legacies. It made me realize that when the time comes, I will be just as ready and hope to show the dignity and reassurance that each were able to pass on to us. I didn't realize it but my eyes are filled and the page is blurry. Bear with me, I guess I just needed to put it on paper. I miss them.

A young person whom I love very much was able to visit Nana this weekend. After two months he was bubbling over with adventures he wanted to share, starting one story before it prompted another and then a third. Not terribly coherent but so alive and entertaining. As the old "witch monkey" from the Lion King sings; Circle of Life. Looking so much like his own Mother and Nana the Great Grands would have loved him.