I want to write about the last day I spent with my mother, but I think that would be better left for another day. It's important to see all aspects, and I haven't talked about the times it's been really, really hard.
Was it hard when my mom went through her chemo? Yes. Was it hard when she had her surgeries? Yes. Was it hard when the cancer came back after remission? Yes. But the first really, really hard part was when she asked me to go with her to pick out a coffin. When we were growing up, as I'm sure all young children do, we asked questions about death. Sometimes it was related to our parents' mortality, though I can't remember why. Their responses were something along the lines that they would live forever.
At 19, I had long since given up that rose-colored notion. But, I wasn't ready to face such a harsh reality of helping to choose my mother's coffin. The box she would lay in when she was dead, which if you're out choosing one like you're picking out a TV or a refrigerator, is probably imminent. Looking back, I don't think my mother was ready for that harsh reality, either, but it wasn't one she could hide from. She was probably scared and angry and sad, exponentially more than I was.
Yet, I hid. I refused to go coffin shopping. It is one of my biggest regrets. I wish I had just gone with her, to ease a little of the pain she was going through. But I was 19 and going through my own pain. Not exactly the best excuse, but it's the truth.
Since her death, there have been other times that it's been really, really hard. A random car ride where it hit me that she wouldn't be around to see my siblings grow up or be there for my siblings' graduations or our weddings or the birth of her grandchildren, and I sobbed with rage. The months after my separation from my ex-husband when I realized I had never allowed myself to grieve, and relied on him to survive each day. I had to mourn not only the loss of my marriage, but my mother--four years after the fact.
The most recent was at a drag show for a close friend's bachelorette party (humor me for a second!). One of the other bachelorettes in attendance had her mother with her, and said mother was visibly appalled at the entire spectacle. I ached at the thought that I had never had that opportunity to be adults with my mom: to share with her something she may also be appalled at, but knowing that she was there with me anyway, peers at least in spirit.
I may have had regrets, bitterness and a time of rediscovering my self-sufficient survival, but it's not always really, really bad. In fact, as I sat distressing at the drag show, it got better. The VERY next song they performed was one that I played for my mom when she was in the hospital just before she passed. It has always reminded me of her, and my dad and I danced to it at my wedding when I married my amazing (current) husband. It was as if my mom was there with me, at least in spirit, and possibly appalled.
All pieces pictured on blog posts dated on or after June 23, 2012 are available for order. Every piece is hand-crafted and no two pieces are exactly the same. Custom orders are accepted. Prices are negotiable--50% of the proceeds is used to buy more beading materials and 50% is donated to an ovarian cancer organization. Email me at janinemkr@gmail.com for order requests! RIP Rita Ann 7/1/2001
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