Thinking of my mother…

One of the bigger things that happened during the OD’s three year blackout was the passing of my mother. She had a fall in September of 2016, one so bad that she had broken her hip. When she was in surgery to repair/replace that hip, she suffered a stroke and a heart attack while on the table.

My brothers were very upset when Dad called on them to come down and visit. I’m the black sheep of the family, so I told them things are not that bad until I am asked to come down to visit. The request for my presence came two weeks later and I was like, okay… now you can panic.

We all flew down to visit mom in the hospital around mid-October and staying in Nashville for several days. We got a chance to say goodbye and spend some time with her. She passed away later that month. She had a small service in Nashville, where she and my father had been living for almost twenty years, and then Dad came north with her remains to hold a small memorial up here in Canada, as well as to bury her up here in a plot beside her mom (my grandmother), which is what she wanted.

We rented out a hall, and set up enough tables to seat 150 people. We had food catered in and put a small thing in the paper to let people know about the small memorial being held. We ran out of seats 20 mins before the memorial was slated to begin. We had to set up five more tables to accommodate those coming in. Even one of my uncles on my mom’s side, who I hadn’t seen in over forty years, took the time to show up. We were all blown away by the response.

During the small ceremony, people took to a podium to say a few words. When it was my turn, I did what a good writer/poet would do at a time like that. I read a piece that I had written specifically for that moment:

The most surprising part for me, was when Ethan… my then 12 year old son, stepped up to the podium to say a few words. This was the first major funeral/service he ever attended, yet I resisted my parental urge to be there with him and watched in the crowd as Ethan said a few graceful words to pay tribute and say good bye to his grandma. I was very proud of the little man, and the courage he drummed up to say a few words.

Overall it was a great service, but we waited until the next spring to actually bury her. The next year, my mom’s high school celebrated a 50th anniversary, and since we had to wait a few month for the stone to be finished… Dad chose to wait one more month and held the service that weekend. It was a smart move, because a lot of my mom’s friends fro school were in town that weekend. So a lot of close friends who had missed the memorial in November, took the time to show up for this small service to say good bye. Another good turn out.

I’ll be the first to admit that my mother and I never always got along, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love her. You always fight with the people you love… because if you didn’t care you wouldn’t bother and just walk away. We were both two rams on a hilltop sometimes, fighting for territory but I do remember there being far more good memories than bad. She was a good person, and that’s how I will remember her and how my sons will remember her as well.

So that’s one of the more bad things to happen during the OD blackout… but I’ve moved on from it as best as one could expect to. I’ve went out of my way to spend more time with Dad, aware that he’s missing her far, far more than any of us every could. I’m going back to see him next month in late March. I’m also making plans to possibly take both boys to visit him next Xmas. I think he might enjoy spending a whole week with the boys, and taking them to Disney World.

So while she may be gone, mom is never forgotten. She’s present in my work and how I live my life. And as I stated in the poem… she’ll never be far away as long as we remember.

Peter