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Friday, February 3, 2012
Just a Thought...
Gone - flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the
day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
[Alfred Tennyson]
Hello, friend. You may have tuned in this morning wondering why I'm off. Today
I'm saying good-bye to my dear, dear Mom. We got a long distance call
on Tuesday at 11 pm saying that it appeared that right out of the blue,
she'd suffered a stroke. The
story worsened as details and time went on: significant bleeding
on her brain meant an induced coma. There was nothing we could do but
wait. So I went to work Wednesday - the only place I knew I could
function half normally - and did a show that was - I hope to your
ears - business as usual.
Yesterday
my mother Maureen, who was to turn 79 tomorrow, was declared brain
dead. They kept her on life support until my sisters and I could get to
Palm Desert, California where she was in the wonderful care of doctors
and staff at Eisenhower.
And so, my friend, I am on the saddest journey one can make - the trip to say good-bye.
I
count my blessings almost hourly that Mom and I had such a good visit
at Christmas time, as well as during two weeks last summer when I flew
her to Ontario to share some time. That's when I shot the picture you
see above. We also shared many laughs and a birthday dinner last
February when Rob and I went to see them in California for the first
time. Seeing her three times in one calendar year was something I
hadn't done since they lived north of us in Aurora. It's almost as if,
somehow, we knew that every moment was to be cherished, every
opportunity seized. So we did those things and more. We laughed and
cried, she took care of me and I got to treat her. It was as you'd hope
a year of last good-byes would be.
She
had never in my life (or perhaps even hers) looked happier or more
content with her life: golfing, painting, laughing, socializing. In the
warm desert sun, surrounded by dramatic landscapes and fascinating
cloud formations, Mom came out of her shell in Palm Desert and she was
loving her time there. Every moment of it.
Her
departure - although delayed for our benefit - was swift; I know from
what Dad has told me that she left quickly and had, in fact, died a
first time in the ambulance. What looked like a stroke was far more and
took her with no hesitation. But fate did show mercy: the last thing
Mom would ever want to do is live less of a life than the one she
shared for 55 years with my father. She wouldn't want to be a burden,
she wouldn't want to compromise. And so she left on her own terms. Good
for you, Mom.
I
won't be journalling for a few days and know you'll understand. I'll
return to you next week and thank Mike, Ian, Gord, Julie and everyone
else who's doing extra lifting these days to allow me to carry a heavy
heart. Erin
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