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.

Memories to Never Forget-A Daughter's Reflection of Life

As I sit her listening to Sade's Soldier of Love I am again reminder of how much I want to remember and put into words the GIFTS my mother gave me. In Sade's new song the Long Hard Road, I am reminded of a fact that my mother always assured me when she was absent from my life due to illness-It's Gonna Be Alright. So true. Whether it was joy or pain, things always were o.k. Here is a list of my most favorite memories of my mother, some are funny and others are tragic:

• When you solved the mystery of the "falling snowflakes on my face coming off a plane" dream. 
• Your brown baby and how it took us all over CA and Michigan. 
• When you PLAYED IN THE SNOW while John and I watched from indoors. 
• The first time I remember you going to the mental hospital via a police car. 
• When we had our own science experiment on the stove. 
• The day you tried to break John's tonka with a 2 by 4 when he broke one of my toys. 
• Letting us have boy and girl sleepovers. 
• The burrito parties with my friends. 
• Our trips to the movies. 
• Reading the Flowers in the Attic series with you. 
• Being there when I experienced my first real taste of bigotry in this country (when NIGGER was strayed on our garage door in Mich). 
• When you told me you were going to hold back the storm (while in the mental hospital) because you knew I was afraid of thunderstorms. 
• When you told me to run. 
• When you thought the cats had mink furs and you let all of penny's kittens out. 
• When you comforted John and I when our dog died in a snowstorm. 
• Every time you told me you loved me. 
• When you forgave me for throwing your cigarettes into the gutter. 
• Telling me about the birds and the bees at an early age. 
• Keeping your sanity when we had to live at the Pike Motel. 
• When you called me my freshman year to tell me that you kidneys failed and reassured me that you weren't going to die and for me to stay in school. 
• When you comforted me when my cat died. 
• The day your gallbladder burst and you thought you just had gas. 
• The day you taught me how to set up and take down your dialysis contraption when you were doing peritoneal dialysis. 
• The nine months you spent in the hospital after receiving a kidney transplant and they nicked your small intestine in the process. 
• The first time I saw you on a ventilator. 
• The first time I saw you tied to a dialysis machine. 
• The blup blup blup sound from your iliostomy bag. 
• The day I changed your pick line. 
• The day I changed your iliostomy bag. 
• Your battle scars from the transplant and gallbladder clean up. 
• The day you told me you were the bride of Jesus. 
• The day you told me you were going to have a baby (while in the hospital). 
• The day you met Matt while on the mental ward. 
• The day you were in the mental hospital and told me that I was not your daughter. 
• The day you refused to eat food because you thought you were being poisoned. 
• The weeks you refused dialysis treatment and we had to get court order to get it done. 
• The day you told me you stop taking your Prozac because you were planning our DEATHS! 
• The day you sat quietly why I stopped breathing while in the ER being treated for a locked jaw. 
• The many days you told me Matt and I were going to get married in December. 
• The joy in your eyes when you spoke of your grandchildren. 
• Your smile and laugh. 
• Your beautiful handwriting. 
• When you sent us beautiful letters. 
• When you sent us not so nice letters. 
• When you sent Matt a letter without me knowing. 
• The day I got the call when you fell and broke your hip. 
• Seeing you look like bozo the clown that night. 
• Watching you vitals go up and down and wondering how could you be so strong. 
• Seeing you the night of your hip surgery and you asking me for chocolate. 
• The last day you saw Matt EVER, and asking him when he was going to marry me. 
• The last week of your life-where I watch your body fails you and us, your skin show the signs of death, and when you and I argued about you lack of eating. 
• The night I whispered in your ear and told you if you were ready to go we would be alright. 
• The fact that you took the time to call your sisters and favorite uncle and say goodbye. 
• The night before you’re OFFICIALLY died and were stuck in limbo. 
• The first time I saw Dad cry. 
• The last time I saw you and I could tell that you were in HEAVEN. 
• Opening the box with your remains. 
• Knowing that your body was donated to science for purposes that were reflective of your life and may help mine one day: her body was donated to LIFE QUEST and they took her heart for a heart study, her spine and hip for a study as well. 
• Placing you in your urn and accidentally spilling you a little. 
• Speaking at your memorial services and paying tribute to you.
• Love you mom. You have instilled in memories for a lifetime that will keep my heart warm always and I know that the footprints I see behind me are yours making sure I stay on the right path.

The Purpose of Dams (A Tribute to 60 year old in Heaven)

If you have ever seen the Hoover Dam you know that it is a beautiful man made work of art. During its construction, thousands of lives we lost to improve the future lives of millions. Its wonder reminds me why we sometimes run into "dams" during our highs and lows of life. Dams serve one main function: to get your attention to something that needs your attention. These dams can have a positive or negative force on your life, depending on how you view.


When I reflect on my mother's dams I realize their purpose and affect on my life today. My mother's dam were in the following forms:


Bi-Polar Disorder
Diabetes
Heart Disease
Neuropathy
Renal Failure
High Blood Pressure
Death of a sibling when she was young
Premature Death of a sibling
Cataracts
Benign Cysts
Kidney Transplant
Dialysis
Ruptured gallbladder
Shattered Hip


Her "Dams" for most would be too much to bear, but my mother toughed it out for 57 years until she was called home. As a result, her "Dams" taught me that you must HANG TOUGH regardless of what is placed in front of you, that life is not fair and we must get over it, you can overcome any adversity if you just add TRY to your vocabulary, and that you must cherish and protect your health and always remember when you times up its up.


As I reflect on this day, a week before what would have been my mother's 60th birthday (Feb 10), I thank God for providing me with a mother despite her very challenging "Dams" was able to raise two healthy and responsible adults and always tried her best. Although we won't be eating chocolate cake and going out to Red Lobster on the 10th I know that you are strutting your new body in heaven. For this I dedicate my third oil painting in her memory.


Moral of the Story: You and God are in control of your future. God just needs you to do what you are suppose to do so that he can send you your blessings. Don't short change your blessings because you have BAD HABITS that you are reluctant to purge.
.

Departed Free Spirit

Departed
Dedicated. My mother was a dedicated mother who despite a troublesome mental illness and numerous physical ailments, always thought of her children and raised two souls who have spirits of lions.

Empathic. My mother’s illness taught me the true meaning of empathy. As difficult as it was for me to truly understand what she was going through, I learned that empathy and compassion is a must when dealing with the sick.

Passionate. Although my mom was sick for most of my life she had a passion for life during her time here. She loved to crochet and did so on most days. If you were one of lucky ones you received one her beautiful afghans or crosses.

Argumentative. My mom was one of the best arguer whoever lived. If you crossed her you would hear about it.

Renal. My mother’s renal failure showed me that miracles truly do exist. Total my mother lived on dialysis for almost 15 years. At times, she went through tremendous pain and had to endure things that we can only imagine.

Temperamental. What can I say? When your mother is an extreme bi-polar, you are often introduced to some very comical sides of her. Have I ever told you about the time she thought she was pregnant (NOT!!!) or when she was the Bride of Jesus.

Endure. My mother endured a lifetime of roadblocks but did so without regret. She took the challenges in her life and accepted them for what they were and placed her concerns to God.

Demand. At times my mother could be demanding but she had a right too. When you are tied to a dialysis machine three times a week, suffer for heart disease, diabetes, mental illness, and numerous other ailments you have earned the right.

Free
Friendship. Over my lifetime my mother was my friend. She cheered me when I need to be cheered, scolded me when I needed to be scolded, and always encouraged me to let the TEARS FLOW.

Restless. This describes her trapped being. My mother’s illness prevented her from achieving her true greatness, but in death she did so in her legacy.

Emotional. Like myself my mother was an emotional person who could cry like a baby and spit fire like a dragon.

Elephants. My mother loved elephants and you would often find little elephant mementos in her home. She gave me one giant one for my apartment when I first moved out, but with all artifacts they do break.

Spirit
Sacrifice. I have always believed that my mother made some tremendous sacrifices in her life including the one of not letting go long before November 3, 2007 so that her children could learn the vital skills that made them who they are today. Thanks mom for holding on for 57 years.

Pain. My mother had the pain threshold of a whale who has been hit by a cruise liner. I have never seen one human being endure so much physical and mental pain over such a short period of time. Luckily she has passed this threshold down to me as well.

Intelligent. What can I say she had a very intelligent soul. My mother loved to read and talk about current events. I wonder if her physical or mental ailments didn’t throw a wrench at her what she could have become. I am sure she is fulfilling that prophecy in Heaven.

Red. My mother loved the color red. A color for her fiery spirit and I will always cherish the red heart rug that she made for me that now lives on my kitchen floor.
Important. My mother was one half a wonderful couple to my creation. Thank God she followed my father to Ohio otherwise I wouldn’t be here.

Time. My mother’s life on Earth was short. After complications of a hip fracture, my mother took her last breath on November 3, 2007. I must say the night before when I saw my mother before she died I saw a very frightened soul, who was trapped between here and Heaven, but when I saw her that Saturday morning I saw a face of an Angel and I could tell that the now walks with Jesus. Thank you mom for all that you did and continue to do in my life. Although I can no longer remember your voice, I remember your spirit and I know that we will see each other again. You just have to wait another 66 years because I plan on living till 100.

A Tribute to My Mother

I wrote this shortly after my mother's death and read it at her memorial service. It's entitled "Heroes".

I have two heroes in my life, one living and the other who has passed on to the other side. Let me begin with the one who has passed. My mother, Christiner Crosby, is and will always be a hero in my life. When she was living she provided my brother, my father, and I with a very unique perspective on life: sometimes things never go your way. My mother was sick 34 years of my life. She battled bi-polar disorder and numerous physical ailments throughout her lifetime but never gave up. She was the best mother despite the battles she had to face on a daily basis. Even when her mind at times separated itself from the real world, she continued to nurture and provided her family with the love that has made us who we are today.

I was never ashamed of my mother. Even when her crazy and at times very comical self said weird and off the wall statements, I still knew that my mother loved us and was proud of us. My mother along with my father raised two children who could face any adversity. Her and my father’s love helped my brother and I to survive the following:

1. Her absences from our lives when she battled bi-polar disorder.
2. The lack of exposure to our extended family.
3. Our first touches with racism.
4. Words from those who couldn’t help themselves.
5. The nights and years that followed when my father lost his job and we had to live in the Pike Motel.
6. The nights and months that followed after my mother had her kidney transplant and the complications that followed.
7. The illostomy bag.
8. Her battles with hemodialysis.
9. And the battles at the end of her life.

My mother taught us to never give up, always do your best no matter what, crying is acceptable, it is o.k. to vent your opinions, only you stop yourself from doing things, and that God truly only gives you what you can handle.

Now I will speak about my living hero, my father, John Crosby. There is only one word to describe him and that is a “Saint.” He is a living saint. He is a man that although quiet and reserved, you always knew he is thinking about you. He is a man who always fought for the weak, even when he may have been weak himself. He is a man who always put others first. He and my mother were married for 35 years and this December would have been 36 years.

All I can say is that he is truly the best and there is no other person like him. Dad I want to tell you that I love you and that without you, John and I truly would have never made it. My mother would have never made it this long. You weathered the storms with mom and you may have wanted to leave at times, but you never did. For that you will be and are truly blessed.

I just want to say that “Tomorrow is not promised” and we all must remember that. I would like to leave you with a few things. One, my mother would not want you to cry over her or give her flowers after she is gone. The best thing you can do to remember my mother is 1) to become compassionate to those who have mental disorders. Bi-polar disorder to some extent when it is an extreme case as it was for my mother, can be hell, but if those around you are supportive you will see the rainbows in the storm. 2) Cherish your health and live life to the fullest.

Lastly, here is something that is reflective of what my mother went through. It is taken from the back cover of Kirk Franklin’s Hero album:

We are hard pressed on every side yet not crushed; we are perplexed but not in despair; persecuted but not forsaken; struck down but not destroyed; for we who live are always delivered to death for Jesus sake; therefore we do not lose heart, for our light afflictions which is but only for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and external weight of glory.

And for the living my mother would probably say the following, which is taken from the song, Afterwhile by Kirk Franklin:

“Afterwhile, this too shall pass
Afterwhile scars will heal, you’ll love again
It won’t hurt you, afterwhile
Stuck between if and when, you prayed, you tried, but still no end
God’s purpose soon you’ll understand
It won’t hurt you, afterwhile
So when the pain has come to end and now your heart is whole again
Help someone who needs to know that it won’t hurt, afterwhile.”

My mother’s joy and pain happened for a reason. God embeds messages in our triumphs and suffering, the question is “Are we listening?”