Memories of My Mother

Between NCAA basketball and a nice visit with my sister Terri and Roy, her husband, I haven't been able to sit down and write until later than usual.  Right now it feels kind of good to get organized and write a little bit about what it's like being me.  We all deal with life in different ways, and it seems to be good for me to express myself in this way.

It seems like I'm always discovering things.  I think it's because I finally have time to sort through years of accumulated "treasures."  When my mother died, my brother Dick did an absolutely fantastic job of arranging a beautiful ceremony at her wake the night before her funeral.  For some reason, I wasn't much involved in the preparations, but I certainly remember well the wake as a most comforting and inspiring event.  I also remember how grateful I always have been that my sister Cookie was such a good caregiver for mom.  It was more than an accident of geography or her  nursing background that contributed to the love she showed during mom's long illness.  She certainly deserves much credit and praise for being there for mom. Today I remembered the last time Gwen and I visited mom at the nursing home,  shortly before she died.  Her last words to me were, "Take good care of Gwen and the kids."  I have always appreciated what a gift it was that she gave me with those words.  That simple request of hers has guided me throughout my life and continues to do so today.  I was particularly reminded of this today when I had a long talk with Jeanne about the vacation she and her family just completed in Dubai. Where and what don't matter so much as does the mere doing of memorable things with those you love.  I am learning now how important those memories become later in life.  

Among the songs that were sung and readings that were read at my mother's wake, this  has great meaning to me now as I continue my struggle to bring what my friend Dave calls resolution and wholeness to the process.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death,

open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one,

even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires

lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow

your heart dreams of spring.

Trust your dreams,

for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

For what is it to die

but to stand naked in the wind

and to melt into the sun.

And what is it to cease breathing,

but to free the breath from its restless tides,

that it may rise and expand

and seek God unencumbered.

Only when your drink from the river of silence

shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top,

then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs,

then shall you truly dance.

Kahlil Gibran

Read at the wake for my mother, April, 1974

Mom really liked and respected Gwen, she saw her as someone who brought much needed common sense to her son.  She was right.  Today at mass we sang a hymn called Come to The Water, a favorite of Gwen's.  It's always those little reminders that fill me with such poignant and wholesome reminders of all that I've lost and miss.  Truly you are dancing now my dear.