It is with mixed emotions that I share with you that my mother passed away in her sleep last night, aged 87 years. She wasn't in the greatest of health, but nor were there indications she was about to go.
I say 'mixed emotions' because for the last 6+ months, she wasn't herself anymore, due to dementia. Her hearing was all but gone and her vision was going, so she was finding it harder and harder to follow/maintain conversations. She had forgotten she had a daughter, and a few weeks ago, she didn't recognize me.
This last point has had the most impact on me. I realized that all any of us has at the end of the day is our memories, and they're such fragile things. I started a 'storytellers' thread a while back but it didn't catch on. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to safeguard your memories as best you can. Tell your stories so that they're out there in the world and not just in your head. Write them. Record them. Don't keep them to yourself, no matter how uninteresting, boring or embarrassing you think they are.
In that vein, I'll share just a little of my mother, things that won't get said at her funeral...
She had to drop out of college before getting her degree, though whether it was simply because she was pregnant, or because her first husband made her to. I never asked about that last part, and she never offered any details. Her first husband is the father to my brother and sister, but he was a drunk and probably very much of his time, in that he expected things to be a certain way and felt he had certain 'privileges' that went with being her husband and the father of her kids. He was violent enough that she left him and moved back in with her parents, but not before he had raped her and made her pregnant with my brother. When he found out she was re-marrying and was pregnant, he made not very thinly veiled threats to her about her unborn child (me). As a result, she was extra vigilant over me, not wanting to let me out of her sight, anywhere or at any time. Additionally, my father had the type of job that took him out of town for stretches of time, so she had to care for the three of us kids by herself. With the threat of an angry, violent ex-husband lurking, I can't imagine how scared and anxious she was, and I have to give her credit for not turning to alcohol or pills. Instead, she had some unknown reserve of silent bravery to get her through--that and her retired cop father just a few blocks away.
She really endured that and other pains a mother shouldn't suffer, yet did it so silently that if you didn't know her backstory, you'd have no idea.
I'm glad her end was peaceful; she had such little real peace while she was alive.
Godspeed Mom. You were great.