Happy Mother's Day

Today’s Word  

cosset,\ KOSS-it\, transitive verb:   To  treat  as  a  pet;  to treat with excessive endulgence; to pamper.

 

 

Irene L. Childers-Dixon, December 10, 1933 - October 1, 1998.

 

This Mother's Day is a very special Mother's Day to me.  Its the first time I've ever written about my mother.  What makes this even more speical and unique is that my mother died October 1, 1998 afterwards a routine heart valve replacement surgery.  During the procedure a piece of plaque was supposedly to have broken away from her heart and lodged in an artery or vein in her brain causing her to enter into a coma.  She was in a state of coma for several days and per her request prior to this procedure, she told me that if she were ever in such a situation, that if it were POSSIBLE that she'd recover and have a reasonably normal life and lifestyle to leave her on life support.  However, if it weren't PROBABLE that she'd recover and have a reasonably normal life and lifestyle then she wanted the life support removed.  I suppose I should step back here and add that prior to this medical procedure, she had an extraordinarly active lifestyle.  The evening she was hospitalized, that day she was mending fences around our farm.

 

My brother who has Schizio-Affective disorder had lived all his life nurtured by my mother.  To the point where she and I had frequent heated arguments about her "over-mothering" of him and that I believed that her love was actually causing him harm instead of good.  My basis was simply on the fact that she had protected him from the ills of the world and lessons life brings when we live out in the real world on our own.  When she passed away, this was the very issue I had to help my brother overcome.  I did this by shifting paradigms.  Not only those of mine, but those of his medical professionals, social workers, and support networks including friends.  That paradigm shift was instead of him being "Disabled", he became "Differently Abled".  A much more positive spin on his severe mental illness.

 

With that being on a sidenote and not intending to enter a sidebar chat about my brother, today's entry is devoted solely to my mother. 

 

My mother was a very simple country woman.  She had a high-school plus trade-school education.  Where she lacked in terms of formal education, she gained the equivalent education through her uncanny ability to maintain, an open mind. creativity, being non-judgmental of others, and careful and thorough analysis of events, places, ideas, and things.  She was so much wiser than anyone would have thought on first impression.  She married my father, a farmer and raised me and my brother on the farm.  She was in an abusive and very violent marriage to my father due to his alcoholism and other mental health factors he was coping wiith unacknowledged to anyone.  I would not be surprised that he didnt have a mental illness himself.  My mother was always a beautiful woman intrinsically and extrinsically.  Everyone around her honored, respected, and loved her.  She was notably kind, generous, and thoughtful of others.  The members of her community treasured her being part of it.

 

Pror to mother's passing, my ideas on death and dying were very conservative and admittedly, I wasn't too open-minded about theories I'd read in numerous classes on death and dying, reading publication after publication by Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross the U.S.' leading expert from UVA on the subject at the time.  I still held ultra conservative beliefs about what death is, what happens, and all the multitude of elements associated with it.  If at anytime prior to October 1, 1998 anyone would have told me I'd have the personal experiences I've had with death since mother's physical passing, I'd have bursted out in a crying laugh right in their faces.  Furthermore, I'd probably laughed at them and told them they had probably had been smoking too much of that "whacky tobacco" grown on those river banks of Mendota,VA.

 

My views on death and dying changed on October 20, 1998.  When my mother sat beside me at The News Cafe in South Beach.  The News Cafe was a favorite people watching spot for her when we vacationed in South Florida.  Yes. It was weird, but not in the least bit threatening.  It was actually very warm, peaceful, and it felt "RIGHT".  In hindsight we can always look back seemingly with crystal vision.  For me that crystal vision is my mother ALWAYS being beside me every step of my life since she left this world.  There have been numerous accounts.

 

Some in which my friends have witnessed it simoutaneously alongside me.  The most recent and most memorable event for me, was Toonie's death.  Toonie was my pet Sheltie.  His partner H.R.M. Halena Slopoflopolopolous were both considered by my mother to be her grandchildren.  They weren't just cossetted.  It was December 2004 when Toonie was entering the end of life cycle.  It was also the holidays.  Holidays alone are stressful enough, without the pending death of a loved one.  A family member.  A best friend.  During Toonie's illness, I was faced with the possibility of having to have him euthanized.  I made the direct correlation between that and having to make the decision to remove my mother's life support.  It was a flashback of trauma, fear, pain, love, anguish, and pride.  I turned to my friends for moral support.  Surprisingly, I was shocked at the reactions I received.  Basically the friends who were situated to be least able to provide support did, and those otherwise, REFUSED to help me.  One, a social worker, tersely commented "Martin, Its a dog!  What do you expect, its 14 years old" and then went on about business as normal.  This statement was so profioundly callus to me that it remained the topic of my weekly therarpy sessions even today.  However when Toonie did pass away, he was laying in bed with me 2 days before Christmas, 2004.  When we went to bed for the night, I knew he'd not make it through the night.  I fell asleep holding and loving him like he always enjoyed.  To give him a sense of love, comfort, and reassurance.  During the night I fell asleep and turned to the other side of the bed.  I was awakened by a nudge on my shoulder and my mother's voice saying, "Maarten, wake up!  I'm here for Toonie!"  I was so startled that I sprung up in the bed, looked at the clock.  It read 3:23am.  Instantly I was blanketed in this eerie easiness and peacefulness and joy that the pain I had endured from the unsupportive friends was simply MOOT!  I was instantly at such a level of ease that I just glanced over at Toonie laying on the bed, but didn't touch him but instead turned over and went back to sleep and awakened at 8:30AM that morning.  I got out of bedand walked to the other side of my bed to check on Toonie.  He was dead.  Mother had come to get her grandchild and took him to the other side with her where H.R.M. H. Slopoflopolopolous will join them in the near future.  I can see them now, darting about on those golden Utopian streets as they ran through the fields on the farm.

 

Today, I'mGRATEFUL for: To have the ability to be receptive to my mother's spirit.  It is with her that I will never have the need to have fear. 

 

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