I arrived at the hospice to visit my mom for the last time and to be with my family during our greatest loss. I made the necessary phone calls to have my mom brought home and we stayed with her until the funeral home’s driver arrived. Dan lay in bed beside her, stroking her hair and it broke me inside to see his devastation. Later, when I left my mom’s room in search of a coffee one of the nurses at the hospice stopped me and told me she had to tell me what was in her heart. She said that she had been working in hospice care for over 25 years and that a family had never touched her heart as ours had and that each time she stepped into the room, the sight of Dan caring for my mom was enough to make her want to fall to her knees and weep. Her words brought me tears but also comfort; I know how she felt and was forced to admit the many times I had sobbed uncontrollably for Dan’s loss. When the transport for my mom arrived each of us girls stood outside the room to give Dan a moment alone before we proceeded down the hall toward the exit. Every nurse in the facility was lined among the hall to pay their respects and for the chance to hug us. It was fascinating to realize that in the 3 short weeks that my mom was their patient, we had managed to touch their lives by loving her just as they had touched our lives by caring for her.
Family and friends began to pour in from across the street and across the globe. We welcomed their comfort and took advantage of their help and support as we tried to survive the emptiness that sucks you in when you lose someone you love dearly. Funeral arrangements were made and the obituary was placed and all of us agreed that we would wear red to the service as a tribute to our mom’s memory. The color red symbolizes intense passion, courage and it was most definitely my mom’s color. We all split in different directions and scoured the malls for red blouses and dresses. Dana and I were on our way out of the Neshaminy Mall to hit a few other stores on the drive home when I got the call from Kelly, letting me know that Helen had made herself prime blog material once again. Kelly informed me that she had rode the escalator down in Boscov’s and when she turned to speak with Helen, realized that she was still at the top, sweating profusely while touching her foot to the first step and pulling back. “I can’t do it. I’m scared.” Kelly realized the panic attack for what it was and decided the best way to handle Helen’s moment of weakness was to call Dana and I so that we could laugh about it while Kelly walked to the UP escalator, crossed to where Helen stood and pulled her along on the DOWN escalator. You just gotta love Helen!
The afternoon of my mom’s service found my sisters and I, dressed in our various red dresses, standing beside Dan; his red shirt stood out boldly against his dark suit, the coordinating tie was straight and even, thanks to the help of his brother David, whose skill with such things always reminds me not to judge a book by its cover. Over our heads was a flat panel TV that looped a slide show of images of my mom during some of our favorite moments, as one image faded into the next the music flowed through the room. An image of Dana and my mom with their arms around each other and backs to the camera filled the screen as the lyrics to “In My Daughter’s Eyes” started; my mom’s favorite song came next, “On the Way to Cape May” while images of her at the beach with my children flashed across the screen. Each of us girls stood below, our heads angled upward watching the images of our beautiful mother while our stepfather kept his eyes to the floor, missing her more than he could bear. The first throng of people came through the double doors and we watched as they stopped to view the pictures; a beautiful blow-up of my mom and Dan when they took a cruise for their wedding anniversary and a poster size composite of hundreds of our favorite photos of my mom, each carefully arranged with the edges feathered and artfully blended into the next. I watched as people laughed at the photos and cried over the DVD images and knew I would never be able to thank the graphics team at mine and Dana’s office enough. They spent their own time putting together these images and their own money having them printed; the gesture was more than you could ask of anyone, but they did it for us. I realize now that I do not just share office space with my coworkers, but life itself. They followed us through my mom’s illness, praying for her, crying for us, stepping in to help with fundraisers when money got tight, they called in favors when we needed a care facility to place my mom and they never stopped listening. Now, they were here to grieve with us, just as family always is.
I watched; mesmerized as our family and friends began to fill the rows of seating and my eyes were drawn to my cousin Donny, whose sheer height alone lets him stand out in any crowd. I thought of his simple statement at dinner the previous night when he sat on the deck of my mom’s home and said easily to me, “Life is messy.” For some reason, that simple statement made things clear for me. The best times I have had in my life were always the hardest to clean up after. Physically and emotionally, life is messy, nothing is perfect, outcomes are uncertain and nothing follows that simple straight line, but in the end it all leads to love and family and the experiences you would never trade, regardless of the clean-up.
For the next 2 hours, my sisters and I would stand beside Dan greeting family and friends, thanking them for coming to pay their respects while we tried desperately to dodge the “lip-kissers.” These are the people that think it is acceptable to plant their condolences right smack dab on your mouth by coming at you with 2 puckered lips and the accuracy of a sonar-guided missile! It just doesn’t matter how much ducking, weaving or head-bobbing you perform, they just get you in the end and you are left to wipe your mouth, as indiscreetly as possible, on the inside of your shirt collar. As the line of people dwindled, we watched the funeral director cross to the podium with the priest, signaling that the services would begin and we were finally able to be seated. I listened to the words spoken and repeated the prayers on auto pilot until the priest concluded and asked for those who wished to speak to please come forward. A quick glance at Dan’s face confirmed that I would be the first to speak. I stepped up to the podium and looked out over the crowd and realized I would not make that mistake again. I felt tears burning the back of my eyes, heard the quiver in my voice and felt that deep, hollow emptiness that comes with the realization that you are alone. I wondered how I would say my peace if I couldn’t get passed that first sentence and then my husband was beside me. I felt the strength and comfort from him and knew that I would always have someone to stand with me. I continued to speak the words I had written for my mom…
My son believes that the stars in the sky are simply holes in the curtains of heaven where our loved ones look down upon us and enjoy our lives with us. As I put him to bed these last nights, I heard him whispering into the sky, “I see you seeing me, Grandmom” and I know this is the way he keeps my mom alive in his little heart, just as I will always hear her laughter in my own or see her eyes in those of my daughter and my niece, I will always witness her selflessness and sense of family in my sister, Dana; I will feel her strength and determination in my sister Kelly, I will observe her style and pride in my sister Christina and in my stepfather, Dan, I will always find her love.
My mom always told us that as her daughters we did not owe her our love or respect. She explained that she had chosen to bring each of us into this world for her own pure joy and that each of us should know that we had her love and respect as we moved through our lives. I never told my mom how much I loved her or about the respect I have for her; there was never any reason to because she already knew.
She is the woman who gave me strength and taught me determination, who showed me that a little common sense can go a long way and that life’s most difficult moments should always be handled with honesty, integrity and a little bit of pride. She has always made sacrifices for each of us and has shown me the woman I want to be. Hers were the words that made my voice; hers were the lessons that shaped my choice. In those last moments of her life I know how hard it was for her to let me go, to realize that each of her daughters had learned to stand. We will never forget the things she taught and will always have the strength her love brought us. We will thank God each day for blessing us with her love and for taking her home when her work here was done.
It was an unwritten rule at my mom’s house that you never said good-bye when you left because it meant you would never see that person again. So, I would just like to say “I love you, Mom and I will see you later.”
I took my seat to listen as Dan spoke. He thanked my mom for the values she brought to his life and told how her daughters would miss her and how much he would always love her. I touched his arm as he retook his seat next to me; the pain was too great to offer any more comfort than that. Dana and Kelly walked to the podium together and I heard Kelly start to speak and I sobbed as she thanked Dan for the care he gave my mom.
I believe each person in this world has a guardian angel that protects and cares for them, my mom married hers. My mom’s illness took her independence away from her one day at a time and the only comfort during it all was knowing Dan was beside her. He cared for her every need, became her legs when she couldn’t walk, her voice when she couldn’t speak. He wiped tears from her eyes, washed her hair and loved her unconditionally. In any marriage you rarely see what goes on behind closed doors, but during our battle Dan opened that door to each of us girls and I for one saw Dan through my mother’s eyes and the sight overwhelms me. I know that when I miss my mom the most, I can simply stand beside Dan because that is where she will always be. From all of us, thank you for everything, Dan.
Dana followed with a few short sentences and I knew in my heart that she could never speak all the thoughts that were in her heart. Her sadness is deep and the loss she feels seems to weigh so heavy on her shoulders that I am amazed at the strength she displayed in those brief words. It tore at me to watch her breakdown and to see her and Kelly turn to one another, just holding on.
Whether it is lunch at Red Lobster, shopping at Lane Bryant or discussing new ideas for renovations to our home, I will miss something about my mom each day of my life. She taught me to be my own person and showed me what I should, why I shouldn’t and when I must. Besides being an amazing mother she was my best friend and I am truly lost without her.
My mom has gone on to travel the rest of her journey alone and when our time comes she will be there, waiting to welcome us home.
Family and friends began to pour in from across the street and across the globe. We welcomed their comfort and took advantage of their help and support as we tried to survive the emptiness that sucks you in when you lose someone you love dearly. Funeral arrangements were made and the obituary was placed and all of us agreed that we would wear red to the service as a tribute to our mom’s memory. The color red symbolizes intense passion, courage and it was most definitely my mom’s color. We all split in different directions and scoured the malls for red blouses and dresses. Dana and I were on our way out of the Neshaminy Mall to hit a few other stores on the drive home when I got the call from Kelly, letting me know that Helen had made herself prime blog material once again. Kelly informed me that she had rode the escalator down in Boscov’s and when she turned to speak with Helen, realized that she was still at the top, sweating profusely while touching her foot to the first step and pulling back. “I can’t do it. I’m scared.” Kelly realized the panic attack for what it was and decided the best way to handle Helen’s moment of weakness was to call Dana and I so that we could laugh about it while Kelly walked to the UP escalator, crossed to where Helen stood and pulled her along on the DOWN escalator. You just gotta love Helen!
The afternoon of my mom’s service found my sisters and I, dressed in our various red dresses, standing beside Dan; his red shirt stood out boldly against his dark suit, the coordinating tie was straight and even, thanks to the help of his brother David, whose skill with such things always reminds me not to judge a book by its cover. Over our heads was a flat panel TV that looped a slide show of images of my mom during some of our favorite moments, as one image faded into the next the music flowed through the room. An image of Dana and my mom with their arms around each other and backs to the camera filled the screen as the lyrics to “In My Daughter’s Eyes” started; my mom’s favorite song came next, “On the Way to Cape May” while images of her at the beach with my children flashed across the screen. Each of us girls stood below, our heads angled upward watching the images of our beautiful mother while our stepfather kept his eyes to the floor, missing her more than he could bear. The first throng of people came through the double doors and we watched as they stopped to view the pictures; a beautiful blow-up of my mom and Dan when they took a cruise for their wedding anniversary and a poster size composite of hundreds of our favorite photos of my mom, each carefully arranged with the edges feathered and artfully blended into the next. I watched as people laughed at the photos and cried over the DVD images and knew I would never be able to thank the graphics team at mine and Dana’s office enough. They spent their own time putting together these images and their own money having them printed; the gesture was more than you could ask of anyone, but they did it for us. I realize now that I do not just share office space with my coworkers, but life itself. They followed us through my mom’s illness, praying for her, crying for us, stepping in to help with fundraisers when money got tight, they called in favors when we needed a care facility to place my mom and they never stopped listening. Now, they were here to grieve with us, just as family always is.
I watched; mesmerized as our family and friends began to fill the rows of seating and my eyes were drawn to my cousin Donny, whose sheer height alone lets him stand out in any crowd. I thought of his simple statement at dinner the previous night when he sat on the deck of my mom’s home and said easily to me, “Life is messy.” For some reason, that simple statement made things clear for me. The best times I have had in my life were always the hardest to clean up after. Physically and emotionally, life is messy, nothing is perfect, outcomes are uncertain and nothing follows that simple straight line, but in the end it all leads to love and family and the experiences you would never trade, regardless of the clean-up.
For the next 2 hours, my sisters and I would stand beside Dan greeting family and friends, thanking them for coming to pay their respects while we tried desperately to dodge the “lip-kissers.” These are the people that think it is acceptable to plant their condolences right smack dab on your mouth by coming at you with 2 puckered lips and the accuracy of a sonar-guided missile! It just doesn’t matter how much ducking, weaving or head-bobbing you perform, they just get you in the end and you are left to wipe your mouth, as indiscreetly as possible, on the inside of your shirt collar. As the line of people dwindled, we watched the funeral director cross to the podium with the priest, signaling that the services would begin and we were finally able to be seated. I listened to the words spoken and repeated the prayers on auto pilot until the priest concluded and asked for those who wished to speak to please come forward. A quick glance at Dan’s face confirmed that I would be the first to speak. I stepped up to the podium and looked out over the crowd and realized I would not make that mistake again. I felt tears burning the back of my eyes, heard the quiver in my voice and felt that deep, hollow emptiness that comes with the realization that you are alone. I wondered how I would say my peace if I couldn’t get passed that first sentence and then my husband was beside me. I felt the strength and comfort from him and knew that I would always have someone to stand with me. I continued to speak the words I had written for my mom…
My son believes that the stars in the sky are simply holes in the curtains of heaven where our loved ones look down upon us and enjoy our lives with us. As I put him to bed these last nights, I heard him whispering into the sky, “I see you seeing me, Grandmom” and I know this is the way he keeps my mom alive in his little heart, just as I will always hear her laughter in my own or see her eyes in those of my daughter and my niece, I will always witness her selflessness and sense of family in my sister, Dana; I will feel her strength and determination in my sister Kelly, I will observe her style and pride in my sister Christina and in my stepfather, Dan, I will always find her love.
My mom always told us that as her daughters we did not owe her our love or respect. She explained that she had chosen to bring each of us into this world for her own pure joy and that each of us should know that we had her love and respect as we moved through our lives. I never told my mom how much I loved her or about the respect I have for her; there was never any reason to because she already knew.
She is the woman who gave me strength and taught me determination, who showed me that a little common sense can go a long way and that life’s most difficult moments should always be handled with honesty, integrity and a little bit of pride. She has always made sacrifices for each of us and has shown me the woman I want to be. Hers were the words that made my voice; hers were the lessons that shaped my choice. In those last moments of her life I know how hard it was for her to let me go, to realize that each of her daughters had learned to stand. We will never forget the things she taught and will always have the strength her love brought us. We will thank God each day for blessing us with her love and for taking her home when her work here was done.
It was an unwritten rule at my mom’s house that you never said good-bye when you left because it meant you would never see that person again. So, I would just like to say “I love you, Mom and I will see you later.”
I took my seat to listen as Dan spoke. He thanked my mom for the values she brought to his life and told how her daughters would miss her and how much he would always love her. I touched his arm as he retook his seat next to me; the pain was too great to offer any more comfort than that. Dana and Kelly walked to the podium together and I heard Kelly start to speak and I sobbed as she thanked Dan for the care he gave my mom.
I believe each person in this world has a guardian angel that protects and cares for them, my mom married hers. My mom’s illness took her independence away from her one day at a time and the only comfort during it all was knowing Dan was beside her. He cared for her every need, became her legs when she couldn’t walk, her voice when she couldn’t speak. He wiped tears from her eyes, washed her hair and loved her unconditionally. In any marriage you rarely see what goes on behind closed doors, but during our battle Dan opened that door to each of us girls and I for one saw Dan through my mother’s eyes and the sight overwhelms me. I know that when I miss my mom the most, I can simply stand beside Dan because that is where she will always be. From all of us, thank you for everything, Dan.
Dana followed with a few short sentences and I knew in my heart that she could never speak all the thoughts that were in her heart. Her sadness is deep and the loss she feels seems to weigh so heavy on her shoulders that I am amazed at the strength she displayed in those brief words. It tore at me to watch her breakdown and to see her and Kelly turn to one another, just holding on.
Whether it is lunch at Red Lobster, shopping at Lane Bryant or discussing new ideas for renovations to our home, I will miss something about my mom each day of my life. She taught me to be my own person and showed me what I should, why I shouldn’t and when I must. Besides being an amazing mother she was my best friend and I am truly lost without her.
My mom has gone on to travel the rest of her journey alone and when our time comes she will be there, waiting to welcome us home.
Heartbreaking and Beautiful Jodey! Your mother is/will be missed by all!
ReplyDeleteAll My Love! Chrissy
Oh Jodey....Thank you for all you have done. I miss her laughter...I miss her smile...I miss her way of handling things. I just miss her...Every time I break down and start to cry, I think of how sad she would be knowing I was sad over missing her and I try to pull myself out of it. I hope all of you are well. I am here for all of you. I can listen...I would love the opportunity.
ReplyDeleteJodey,
ReplyDeleteThis is such a touching, eloquent tribute--not just to your mom, but to your entire family. You're an amazing sister, mother, wife, and especially an amazing daughter.
With love,
Christine