October 28, 2007-A Mother's Final Message to her Daugther's Life Partner

Sunday, October 28, 2007 is a very memorable date. Not only was it my brother's 32nd birthday but it was the day my mother gave her final and powerful message to my boyfriend, Matt. 

This day was shortly after my mother had surgery to repair her shattered right hip and femur bone. This Sunday Matt and I decided to visit my mother in the hospital. Prior to my mother entering the hospital, she told me that she wanted to tell Matt something. I tried to make her drop the issue but she insisted that the next time she saw him she was going to TELL HIM. 

So as we entered her hospital room, my mother appeared to be sleeping and kind of out it. All of sudden, her eyes opened and she proceeded to say the following: 

"Matt, Matt! It's time; it's time, for you to marry my daughter!" Then she fell back asleep. 

Both Matt and I were speechless and I personally had to chuckle years later because to had the last word. 

In the end, although Matt and I are not married, we are committed to each other, and are often more respectful to each other than some married couples are. 

A few years after my mother's death, Matt shared with me a letter that my mother sent him (I never new) and in it, she told him how happy she was for us and how she appreciated how he made me happy. 

With her words, he continues to do this today and I know my mother is just beaming up in heaven. 

It is memories like this that take the sting out of the loss of a love one. 

October 3, 2007-The Beginning of The End (Reflections of a Heavenly Transition)

October 3 will mark the day my mother's transition into heaven began. On this day, my mother fell, while in the hospital and shattered her right hip and femur bone. It is hard to believe that it has almost been five years since her death on November 3, 2007.

Each year I try to take time to reflect on her life and journey. This year I would like to reflect on some key words and quotes that reflect the 30 day period in which my mother made her transition from this world into the next.

At age 34 I watched my mother died rather quickly and have to endure a tremendous amount of pain. I remember when my family finally got in contact with me (I never keep my cell on and still do not to this day), my heart sunk and I thought: It is finally here. As a teenager I begun to realize that my mother would probably not make it to 60 years old and I was right: she died at 57. 

I could have never imagined that I would pray for DEATH but I did. Seeing my mother in traction for three weeks, her body fail her, and watching her vital signs move up and down like a roller coaster was very difficult but it is one that I felt life prepared me for. It strange saying that but its true. Prior to my mother's death I had at least two friends die prematurely-Robert and Milton. Both deaths gave me my first taste that death is real for humans and no one can escape it. 

As the days progressed I slowly watched the signs of reaper's presence: skin breakdown, vital signs of the walking dead, not wanting to eat,  etc. I continued to wonder does everyone's life have to end in pain. I would hope not but during our transition to our next life this is often the case. Luckily in death we (the living) get a glimpse of heaven. I will talk about that one later!  

One quote that comes to mind about the month of October is one I found in a book of quotes by Glenn Van Ekeren: "Well, you see, it's like this. The Bible says often, 'And it came to pass,' never, 'It came to stay." 

This quote reminds me that any pain we endure in the end or at anytime in our life only occurs in passing and never stays. This is mantra of my mother's life, one filled with many moments of pain and suffering but they never stayed and in the end she did find her rainbow. 

The other is the Poem-Don't Quit by Clinton Howell (http://www.angelfire.com/nt/Yeoh/Quit.html), particularly the first section: 

 When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, 
 When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, 
 When the funds are low, and the debts are high, 
 and you want to smile, but you have to sigh. 
 When care is pressing you down a bit, 
 Rest if you must, but don't you quit. 

This is exactly what my mother did most of her life and definitely for the last 30 days of her life. She held on so that we would have time to accept what was coming and have a few more days with her. I have always thought and will continue to think so that my mother endured a lifetime of mental and physical illnesses so that her children may live a healthy life. It is because her and my father that I do not take anything for granted and cherish my good health. 

Reflections of Human Frailty: A Tribute to My Mother

Wow! The day is here once again! It's been four years (11-3-2007) since you left your earthly body and entered into your heavenly one. Such a powerful force in whom I have become and what I still have left to do. During our time together you provided me the skills to face ANYTHING and help me understand how fragile the human mind and body truly are. I am always reflective of your suffering. I have yet to meet an individual who could have manage to still be a great mom even when you mind was fractured at times and when you body began to fail you. The sensitivity for others that you instilled in me is fierce. It is something that I will never let go of and will always remind me of you. I must say once again-although I no longer remember your touch, smell, or voice; I vividly remember your spirit.

25 years or less -A Life Cut Short! (A Tribute to My Mother)

Every year since my mother's death in 2007, I read a book or something on the illness that ultimately led to her death. This year I read: Madness-A Bipolar Life by Marya Hornbacher.

This book really gave me a better perspective on what it is like for someone with bipolar disorder and how maddening it truly can be for them. At the end of the book they list some interesting statistics, including the two that ring true for my mother: (1) Life expectancy of an adult with a serious mental illness is 25 years shorter than that of a person without and (2) the average age onset of bipolar disorder is 23 years. My mother was 23 when she was first hospitalized for what they thought was postpartum depression and she died at age 57.

After reading these two statistics I wondered what would life be for my mother if she never had the illness. Here is a list of my estimates for what could have happened:

• She may have never had kidney (renal failure) disease (she once took lithium-which later was found to cause kidney damage).
• Her diabetes may have never happened. My mother was fairly thin prior to her diagnosis, once diagnosed she packed on weight which probably increased the likelihood of her getting diabetes.
  
• She would have been a nurse and/or some type of scientist. My mother was extremely intelligent but the disorder robbed her of her true glory.
  
• Her and my father would have celebrated their 40th this year!
  
• and many more.
  

Unfortunately as a result of manic (bipolar) episode, my mother did not go to dialysis for several days, had to be hospitalized because of this, fell in the hospital (shattered her right hip and femur on October 3, 2007) and died as a result of this on November 3, 2007.

It's hard to believe that my mother spent 34 of her 57 years of life either having to deal with a mental illness and/or physical illness. Doesn't seem quite fair when there are tons of human beings running around being ungrateful for the life they were given and/or are choosing to live.

Thankfully my mother pains and heartaches provided me a valuable lesson on the true meaning of perseverance and the power of will to live regardless of what life throws you.

Moral of the Story: Stop complaining and start living because when your numbers up it's up!

Since You Been Gone-A Reflection

It's hard to believe that on November 3rd it will have been 3 years since you left. Each year that passes I wonder why I do not remember your voice or ponder would I remember what you look like if I didn't have a photo.
Your passing was a great loss for those who you left behind but your legacy LIVES on.

Oh the things that you have missed in person but not in spirit. As a young teen, I knew your life would be short but powerful. There is no one like you and there never will be.

Your strength to endure is legendary and is one that I can only hope that I have inherited half of.

The memories of your last days bring both joy and sorrow to my heart. The joy in the fact that on October 28, you were able to say one first and final time the message you so wanted to give to Matt or that you asked for chocolate after coming out of a 6 hour surgery to repair your hip and femur. The sorrow in the fact that your body each day showed signs of failure and the last time we spoke, I fussed over the fact that you were not eating.

Mom, thank you again for all that you did during my life and continue to do in spirit. I know that I am truly your daughter and that your TOUGHNESS AND TENDERNESS lives within my spirit. I do hope that when I am called home you are waiting for me at the end of light to show the way.

                                               My mom and I coming home for the 1st time.

30 Days-A Tribute

What would you do if you were told you had only 30 days to live? For my mother, it only took 30 days for her to go to from an accident to death. Something I often I reflect on as I approach the 30 day period, October 3 to November 3. It’s like a reminder of how sweet and precious life is and how we should live it to the fullest.

30 days for most is short time, but for my mother it was a long period of time, when she and her family had to slowly watch her body systems fail. As a pre-teen and teenager I use to think my mother probably won’t live past 60, she was three years short.

It’s amazing what a human spirit will do when they begin to realize the end is near. For my mother, she seem to know but was holding on a little longer just to give us and others time to come to grips (I realized it that night I got the call). In true, Tina fashion, she and I argued about her not eating. I you see was the one that always stayed on her about her health, and would often sell her out when I accompanied her to the doctor. As the near grew closer, I realized that it was necessary for me to let my mother know that it was OK for her to let go and go on to a place a peace. It was one of the hardest things I ever said to someone, but I knew it was necessary. I simply told her if she was tired it was OK to give up and that we would be OK. This is explains why I did not get a going away call. In her final week, she did call both sisters and Uncle Charlie to say an unofficial goodbye. I still remember my Aunt Madeline telling me that my mom usually ended her calls with her by saying, “I will talk to you later”, there last call she simply ended with a “goodbye”.

The last 30 days of my mother’s life truly taught me a valuable lesson about death: it will come, not always an easy process, but in the end you will have peace.

I still remember day 29, when I walked into her hospital room to find her body being supported by machines. In true Doctor Cherie fashion, I did the normal checking if you are really here (test for reflexes) and discovered there were none. Only a face of fear and pain, which was saying to us living beings please DO NOT, let me stay in this state. Luckily for us, my mother always talked about not wanting to be a vegetable and wanting to donate her body to science. Both wishes we were able to give her. That night we DNR here.

Day 30, I knew would come. So I intentionally stalled going to the hospital that morning to avoid the bells and whistles. When I got the final call that she had passed, both my father and I went to see her one final time. Best thing I could have done, because when I walked into the room, I saw the face of an Angel-a woman who was no longer in pain and her face said, “I am at peace.”

Although, I know longer remember her voice or her smell, I remember her spirit and legacy and it lives in me always. This is why I always will take time to write a little tribute to her each year in reflection of the human being she was and how her tremendous ability to deal with pain and heartache should be an inspiration to us all.

Mom and Lucille's last photo together.

The Power of a Spirit

It’s hard to believe this will be my 4th Mother’s Day without my mother. As I take time, to reflect on the power of her spirit I have come to several conclusions:

1. Although I know longer remember her voice, I hear her thundering spirit in my ears singing: I am proud of the woman you have become and keep pushing forward.
2. Although I know longer can sit down with her at Red Lobster, something we did on most Mother’s Day: I still say: “That’s Mom’s Place” when I pass a Red Lobster.
3. Although my mother will never see Matt and I live a beautiful life together: I know that her final words to him resonate in his heart.
4. Although I will not be reunited with my mother for at least another 50-60 years: I know that she and my father will be the ones to lead me to the other side.
5. Although I know that there will be many life challenges in my future: I cherish the fact that I was able to witness 34 years of my mother’s life and in doing so I learned that we cannot allow challenges to rob our joy and they are necessary for growth.
6. Although I cannot see my mother now: I am reminded of her every time I look in the mirror.
7. Lastly, for those who have not become permanent member of the “Motherless Daughters” club: please cherish your mothers every day of your life, as well as your fathers. Give them their tears, smiles, and flowers today. Too many fail to do so, and as a result are left with a lifetime of regrets. For me, I have none. My mother and I had full life together, even though she died at the tender age of 57. She packed 70 years of advice into 34 and made sure that I would be prepared for life’s joys and challenges. Thank you Mom for being you, and I know that now that both your body and mind are healed you are living it up in heaven.