May 06, 2008

Lucky me

My mother's death is something that is with me all the time, although of course like most people with a dead parent I don't talk about it much. I talk to Jeff, because he lost his mother first - and I felt such pity for him. I mention Mom to Erika often, because I know she understands and thinks of her as often as I do, daily, even now that she's been gone four years.

Sometimes when I do talk to people about it, and they're saying how hard it must have been, I find myself trying to explain instead how lucky we are, Erika and I. I also feel terribly unlucky to have lost her, and that it was monstrously unfair, that she wouldn't get to have real conversations with Ethan, would never know Linna, or Dylan. Unfair that other people have mothers who are alive, mothers they complain about, who drive them crazy, when we had a mother who supported us and loved us and saw us as we really are, and she's gone.

And yet, that time when Mom was dying was so precious, in a way that's hard to explain. How lucky, that we didn't have unresolved issues coming between us or that we were trying frantically to resolve. How lucky, that we had the time and the closeness to express our love for each other clearly and often. How lucky, that Mom could finish her life peacefully and gracefully - grace was always important to her - and die at home, as I think most people would choose.

How lucky that we had a year after we knew she was sick and possibly dying. How lucky that she didn't suffer for ten years instead. How lucky that for the most part, she was optimistic throughout that time, until it became clear that she wasn't going to get better.

How lucky that our father, from whom Mom had been separated for almost a decade, still loved her and supported her, and us, through her illness. How lucky that instead of being uncomfortable with our mother's boyfriend, Dad became friends with him.

One of the things that is hardest to remember and also explain is how privileged I feel that Erika and I were there, taking care of her, especially that last day when she didn't wake up. I wasn't yet thinking about how many days and years I would have without her, without talking to her and actually having her talk back. I just loved her, as perfectly, I think, as a person can love another. She was beautiful, not physically, just beautiful. She had no hair, she had a tumor on her chest that was so awful I had found it difficult to look at in its entirety when I saw it a few weeks before she died. She had become thin. But god, god, she was my mother, and I had those moments with her and my sister, those last hours that she still breathed.

How lucky that the last words she said to me were, mumbled: "Love you, sweetie." Even more, how lucky that I already knew.

Posted by ktingey at 06:41 AM | Comments (6)

May 17, 2006

Mother's Day

We had a nice Mother's Day. I spent part of the night in Ethan's bed with Linna (Ethan was in the big bed), which sometimes affords me a little more sleep than when we're four-to-a-big-family-bed in our room. In the morning, Ethan and Jeff came in with coffee, a card, and an unexpected present - a jewelry case for my vast collection of fine jewelry. Actually, I had more than I thought - I pretty much filled the thing up. Then Jeff made scones (of course), which we ate outside. It was a gorgeous sunny day, not too hot. We had a picnic at Laurelhurst, on my request, and a little playground time for Ethan, then drove to the Gorge and took a short hike to Latourell Falls. It was a good distance for us - Ethan almost made it the whole way, though I had to carry him in the big sling part of the way back.

I definitely had some moments of missing Mom, of course. I really wanted to be obligated to call my mother on Mother's Day. We used to have brunch together, which Erika and I would make for her and for Gammi. I called Gammi, of course, and got to talk to Erika briefly too. I tried calling Dad and Martha, but they weren't home... had a conversation with Naoko, which was nice, since it's her first Mother's Day as a mother... but none of that made up for the fact that I wanted to call my mother.

Posted by ktingey at 12:38 AM | Comments (6)

March 15, 2006

More Mom missing

The other thing about shopping was that it just made me think about how much Mom would have loved to be there with me and Linna. If she were still around, of course she'd have been there for the birth, and probably would have visited at least once since then, as Erika has. She loved helping me shop for Ethan, and would have been so happy to get some things for Linna. (Of course, in this case, it was stuff for "their" room, which is still really Ethan's room. But now it's Ethan's room with nice curtains. Since they both sleep in the big family bed anyway, it's just a room for his toys.)

I just wish she had been there, all along. Through the rough spots in the pregnancy, for the bed rest in the hospital, for the long induction and labor and the very quick birth. And then the time in the NICU. I'm so, so happy and grateful that Erika and Dad and Martha were there. I can't even begin to thank them. But I wanted my mommy too.

Posted by ktingey at 04:16 AM | Comments (6)

March 13, 2006

The joy of shopping

Today I went to Washington Square to exchange something at Pottery Barn Kids (I know, I know - how suburban can I get?), and since I was there we (Linna and I) walked through Nordstrom as well. We didn't buy anything, as I just can't stomach spending lots of money on clothes ($150 for a nightgown, no matter how nice, is just too much). But boy, did it make me think about Mom. I don't know how many times the three or four of us (Mom, Gammi, Erika and I) went to Nordstrom together at Stanford Shopping Center. And there's certainly a sameness to all Nordstroms, so it doesn't matter that Mom never set foot in Tigard - Nordstrom's makes me think of her. Very nostalgically.

The funny thing is that as a kid I hated shopping, and often excused myself from the day-after-Thanksgiving outing, when I could. But once we were grown up, I guess the trips grew on me. We'd always share a dressing room if there was a big one, or traipse back and forth in the clothes if there wasn't. Then we'd have lunch at the Nordstrom Cafe, which isn't bad. In the later years, Gammi would mostly sit and watch, or try on a few things if there was something in particular she needed.

Even now I don't like shopping much, and don't like spending money on clothes. But God, I miss going shopping with Mom. It's just about impossible for me to buy anything at Nordstrom without encouragement from someone - maybe that's part of what I miss. When I was in California a few times last year, I kept wanting to go shopping with Erika, to get my fix in. It's a rare pleasure now, even rarer since Erika's 800 miles away, and Mom infinitely farther, plus she probably doesn't need any new clothes. And mostly I just don't have friends I shop with. Karla is the exception - we shopped together once last year just after I learned I was pregnant, and it was really fun.

Even Mom's last Christmas, a month before she died, when hospice was already calling and offering their services, we took one last shopping trip to Nordstrom and bought each other nightgowns. I needed a new nightgown that would be good for nursing in, Mom needed a very soft cotton one that wouldn't bother her tender tumor, and Erika just wanted some cool pajama bottoms for lounging in. She always gave us nightgowns for Christmas, which we would open on Christmas Eve and sleep in. In fact, that's the last new nightgown I got.

Posted by ktingey at 10:05 PM | Comments (7)

February 12, 2005

Dream

Last night I dreamed about Mom... half-dreaming. I was sort of awake, too. She was there, and she was still dead, but also still alive, but sick. You know, the usual. I talked to her and hugged her. I don't remember what we talked about, but it was intense emotionally, which sometimes the dreams aren't. Like the one where she was back after having been dead, and I was worried because we'd given away all her clothes while she was gone. Plus Dad was sleeping in her room, and I wasn't sure how that was going to work out.

Posted by ktingey at 05:56 AM | Comments (7)