My mom passed away on Saturday. She was 91, in her own home, with amazing hospice care and the even more amazing care of my brother, who has managed the lion’s share of her care for the past few years with grace and good spirits.
I was fortunate to have some good moments with her in the past month, when the cloud of dementia seemed to clear and she was able to have brief but lucid communication with me.
She was an amazing woman and I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who knew her who didn’t wholeheartedly agree with that statement. She accepted people as they were, without judgment, and she spent most of her life standing up for those whose voices were not heard. She worked in NC government her entire career, closely supporting three NC Democratic governors who did good things and who valued her thoughtful compassion for all. The last chapter of her career was as the Executive Secretary of the NC Industrial Commission. She took on this complex role and learned it inside and out. The work she did there was highly regarded by the team of attorneys and the Board of Commissioners who worked with her.
As a mom, she did anything and everything possible to ensure her three children were loved and supported. She told me from the time I was little that I could do anything I wanted to. She was beloved by my and my brothers’ friends, who experienced her warmth and support regularly.
She was a terrific grandma too, the only person my children were allowed to stay with through their childhoods. I’m sure it was her modeling that fed the fierce “mama bear” mode that kicks in with my own children, my grandchildren, my animals, and through the years as I worked with children who very much needed my advocacy as clients.
I have so many memories and stories. Last night I had a dream that was hard but in the end hopeful, and at the end of that dream my mom arrived, fully free from dementia, able in body, and we spent the rest of that very long meandering dream time by the sea somewhere in England, listening to the ocean and perusing an open air market for coffee and some food, looking at gift items, and talking the way we always did, about everything. I hope it’s the first of many of the dreamtime visits we will have. I don’t know what happens when we die, but I do know that the spirits of my dad, Keil Bay, and other beloved friends whether human or 4-legged are with me often. I’m grateful.
I’m also grateful for being able to be with my brothers on Saturday as we said goodbye to her, remembered some of the many stories, cried, hugged, and talked a little about what this next stage of life will look like for us.
Love you, mom. I hope you’re with dad dancing in the open air pavilion you told me about, when you were first married and he was stationed in Alabama. See you in the dreamtime!
2 comments:
I’m so sorry to hear about your mom’s passing. She sounds like an amazing woman who left a legacy of brilliant wonderful children and grandchildren. She’s a woman who will never be forgotten for her compassion for others and her tireless work in NC government. I hope you have many Dreamtime visits.
Thank you so much, A. It doesn’t feel like she’s gone, really, but I know there will be moments of grief to come.
Post a Comment