jim,
you owe me no apologies for not having written before now. i mean that: i try not to keep score. folks speak from their hearts whenever that happens for them. life is busy: we get to things when we can. you wrote what you did when it felt right for you to do so and, for that, i'm grateful.
as for what you are going through now, when i was in your shoes several months ago, i did call it grief. i knew mom was dying even though she refused to talk about it. i knew mom was dying even though MY talking about it would only make her angry. and i was in grief not just because i knew i was going to lose her, either: but really because i'd finally realized - truly and deeply - that my fictional ideal of who my mom was and what my family MIGHT be had absolutely died. i'd always wanted my mom to be a kind, nurturing, loving, supportive, affectionate woman. she was none of these things. i'd always wanted my family to be the supportive, kind sanctuary i've always thought a family should be, like i've seen in some of my friends' families. my family was, with some rare exceptions, not this kind of family. which isn't to say that my family was awful and terrible: it wasn't. but it wasn't what i'd wanted it to be and what i'd hoped it could be. and my stubborn refusal to admit that earlier in my life caused me great pain and duress for several decades.
so yes: i was in mourning and in grief before my mom physcially died. but that grief, frankly, was my ticket out of my unending stubbornness and the resulting cycle of pain. the grief of those ideals dying was what allowed me to make peace with both mom and my family dynamic before she physically died. i was then able to be present with her for her death without needing or wanting anything from her. and that was beautiful. and i was able to be present for the others without needing or wanting anything from them. and that was beautiful.
you spoke of the price to play in terms of the disease. i think all of us have disease in some form or another. i have a disease of thinking. and as my mom finally surrendered to her cancer, i surrendered to the truth. my mom died and the fictions i'd been clinging to died as well, so i was, ironically, set free. and that surrender led to a much deeper connection with mary, something i can't describe in words, really. but it's a familiar and comfortable connection, something i noticed with her immediately upon meeting her. when her father died one month ago, a bitter irony, i was able to be present for her and am, in fact, now here in idaho for the weekend for her dad's memorial service and to meet her family.
so the ill continue to die, but the living continue to live. mary never met my mom and i never met her dad. but we survive today and continue to love one another in the face of life's continuing uncertainty. in fact, i'd say that the uncertainty of life only makes the certainty of my feelings for mary even more precious now. i understand more fully at this time, why people cling to love. as for what mom wanted for me, well... mom wanted me to be successful and to not forget my judaism. and although her definition of "successful" was far narrower than mine, i have achieved many great successes in my life and now, with mary, a deep, abiding and successful love.
and as for you, sir: there is no roadmap, no one right way, no "best" method. you'll do what you need to do and feel what you need to feel. and all of it will be right, no matter what anyone else tells you. if you see this as one of the last hurdles in the path to growing up, then so be it. perhaps you will come to realize this is true and perhaps not. but you're on the path and you'll find out what all of this means to you in one way or another. if i can give some unsolicited advice, it would only be this: be patient and with yourself at all times, no matter what. you have only one mother and she'll only die one time. you can't be present for that experience if you're busy judging yourself or beating yourself up for any reason.
all my love to you both on this most sacred journey,
d
On Mon, Sep 5, 2011 at 9:43 PM, jim wrote:
Thank you for your thoughts, David. (I didn't want to communicate via FB if possible.) Very glad you saw this.
I know about your visits east to see your mom; I was happy to see you fly back west the first time dumbfounded at your mom's spirit. That made me hopeful and happy. And I was so sorry to hear that later she passed away. (People say "lose the fight" but that isn't quite right. There is no shame in passing on, we all do that, as tragic as it is. The price to play is steep, and seems illogical, and we didn't have a choice, but we all make it worthwhile while we are here, as best we can.) I don't think I met her, but maybe I did at tim and tanya's wedding. I hope you have solace in her memories and her full life and her successes as a person, not just as a mother. Those successes were real. And I'm glad you are in a relationship! I hope you are in love, maybe that is what you said. I hope so. What a great time to have someone very close. Your mother would want that for you. And I'm sorry I didn't say more then. I thought about that about two weeks ago. "Why didn't I send david a card?" I fell down on that, I'm sorry. You probably weren't expecting anything but I would have loved to surprise you. I still thought about her, and you, and still do. I know you so inadvertently I know her.
I think you are kind; I bet you have a very good idea what I'm going through now, or will go through. It isn't grief really, yet, she's here, we talk daily. But the near future does crop up. I dread it. It seems dire; parents always have your back, no matter what happens. It is still unimaginable to lose one. I guess this is one of the last steps of growing up. I am thankful she has her mind, and didn't die when i was young, or in a host of more unpleasant ways.
Thank you so much for your offer, I'm very sorry you have the experience that makes your offer attractive and no doubt helpful.
love,
Jim
