As most know, we returned to our lives on the prairie on March 30, but unfortunately our reentry into this world was much rockier and harsher than we could ever have imagined.
Early on the morning of March 31st, my Mom called to see if we could pick her up and take her to emergency. She had been doctoring because her stomach had been upset since late January, but she seemed to be controlling it with antacids and careful eating. Then in mid February she started having an ongoing backache that her chiropractor didn’t seem to be able to relieve. The problems were annoying, but didn’t seem to be that serious, until that morning when she called.
Cecil and I picked her up and had her into Portage by 6:30am…and that was the start to yet another irreversible change in our world. By April 6th, they had diagnosed her with pancreatic cancer, which by the time it was found had invaded the liver and bile duct. There was no treatment, no hope, only palliative support and a limited amount of time to get her affairs in order. We were all left dumbfounded. How could someone who had always strived so hard to do everything right for herself and her family have this to deal with? How was it that only two weeks before, she’d flown out to meet us on Salt Spring Island to celebrate our daughter’s wedding? It was another one of those times that life just seemed too unfair. But as with everything else my mother did, she handled the news with grace and strength and concern not for herself, but for the rest of us she loved in what this would put us through.
Mom's Birthday 2009
The next morning she got up and over coffee told me “Shane and I had a big, long talk last night, and we’ve decided it would be best if I stay right her with you and Cecil if that’s okay.” Who was I to argue with her and Shane, the only thing I told her was that next time the two of them were talking, could she send him across the hall to say hi to his Mom!
We braced ourselves and made preparations for the journey ahead, not knowing at that time it would only be a short 5 weeks from diagnosis to death. Looking back, it’s a bit of a blur, but as painful as that loss continues to be, I feel so lucky for what we were able to achieve and experience in that short period of time.
Mom with me on my wedding day June 1, 2004.
We were fortunate in that the bumps in life have provided us with the knowledge and skills necessary to support the rapid changes that the disease caused in a fairly seamless manner. We made her dying as gentle and as dignified as it could be for her, and she responded in kind. We worked as a family team, my husband and our family, my sister and hers, my brother and his, and my Mom’s siblings…all banding together to make the best of a bad situation, all there for her giving her the one and only thing that had ever really mattered to her…the love and support of her family. In those weeks we had endless family suppers, movie nights, afternoon visits, and conversations. We took a night and put all the pictures that my mother had been taking on the digital camera we’d given her in 2004 on a disc, and we had a “Granny’s picture night”, where all of us spent our evening watching life from my Mom’s perspective in the time leading up to Dad’s stroke and the loneliness afterwards. It was heartwarming, eye opening and a little bit painful so see that time through her lens. When it was over, Mom was thrilled, and announced that this was one of the best months ever! Oh to have her grace!
Mike and Mim's Wedding, May 8, 2010
The week before Mom passed my brother married his longtime girlfriend here at our home, and Mom was able to be front and centre for the celebration of her last child. She beamed! She had fought very hard to be there, each morning the week before waking up and asking how many more days, not wanting to mess up his special day with her illness. She didn’t. It was perfect. At the end of the day, as we watched the happy couple cut the cake and open gifts, we finished with a sing-along so that Mike and Mim could have their first dance as a married couple, followed by a few songs were I played with the amazing accompaniment of Mim’s brother Iain. And just as I knew she would, Mom requested her favorite song “One Day at a Time”, and sang along with me as I sang what I know will be the hardest song ever.
That was on May 8th, and at 6:15am on May 14th, we gathered around her in the comfort of Shane’s old room as she took her final breath and went to join Dad and Shane. Even as I write these words, almost two months later, it seems so impossible that she is gone. She was my biggest fan, my strongest supporter, the one who still thought her children were perfect, even after all these years! It seems impossible that in only 26 months my husband and I have lost three parents and my precious son. It seems impossible that the world goes on, but it does, and so do we. Changed forever, but so fortunate to have had them in our lives and our world for as long as we did.
We all decided we needed a few weeks to catch our breath and ground ourselves after the whirlwind we’d found ourselves coming home to after her diagnosis, so we waited until June 12th to have her Memorial service. My brother Michael Dickson did her eulogy, and once again captured her essence and her life perfectly with his words. It went as follows:
In better times....together again.
“If you look at the framework of a person’s life, most would look...well...less than extraordinary. If you looked at the framework of Mom’s life you might see a woman who; was born and raised on a small farm in Southern Manitoba, grew up to become a teacher, got married, raised a family (on a small farm in Southern Manitoba) worked until she retired and... sadly...passed away quietly on a small farm in Southern Manitoba.
It’s only when you look much closer that you see: the young girl born to a hard working prairie family whose humble beginnings saw her forced to sleep in the drawer of her parent’s dresser. Now...it was never made clear to us if it was the top drawer or the bottom drawer...or if any of her other siblings occupied the other drawers but...I digress. You see the hopes and dreams of a young girl growing up, riding horses, skating with friends and taking the buggy back and forth to school. You would see the determination of a young woman who completed her schooling and pursued her childhood dream of becoming a teacher.
The courage it took to leave her home to travel to strange and distant lands like Nelson House and...Rossendale. You would see the passion of a woman who could open her heart to love at first sight, the patience to wait for her true love to come to his senses and confess his love and the courage to follow her heart. You would see the spontaneity required to pack up her worldly belongings, fly out to the west coast and get engaged on December 19th 1958...and get married on December 20th 1958. I always assumed that Mom and I were so different and that she must have figured that I was crazy and irresponsible but...while writing this...I realized that, maybe, we weren’t all that different after all.
After following Dad back and forth across the country she returned with him to Rossendale where she worked for 30 years teaching at Long Plains. She embraced the community and the culture and they, in turn, I believe, embraced her. She taught several generations and made lifelong friends. She always loved running into former students, seeing how they were doing, meeting their children...sometimes their grandchildren. She took pride in their accomplishments, mourned their losses and felt happy to see when they were doing well.
In later years her joy came from her grandchildren. Going to soccer, hockey and baseball games, swimming, Christmas concerts spending time hanging out with Jamie, Shane, Michelle, Richard and, on visits, Andrew. Baking, reading, watching movies. When Lynda and Cecil married the circle grew to include more grand children and great grand children, all of whom she embraced and treasured.
After Dad had his stroke Mom’s focus turned to caring for and supporting him. Most of us could not believe or appreciate how much work it was but she never complained, never felt sorry for herself or showed resentment for her situation. She did whatever it took, accepting that that was just what needed to be done.
When Dad died...Mom’s heart was broken. We all thought we knew how hard it was for her but, in hindsight, I don’t think we really had any idea. The world she knew was gone. Just a year later, when Shane passed away, I think it was more than she could bear.
Shane and his Granny
When Mom received her diagnosis it shook her, to be sure, but she seemed to accept it (quite readily), to be at peace with her lot. It was only 5 short weeks from the day that she received the diagnosis that she passed away but those 5 weeks were filled with family, friends, laughter and love. All of the things she had held so dear. There was the opportunity for generations to grow closer as her brothers and sisters, children and grand children shared her final days.
She was not afraid to die. She found strength in her faith and peace in knowing that she was going to see two of the most important people in her life; her beloved Jim and her dear Shaney. We just hoped that...when she arrived they were there waiting for her...not busy out Bull shopping or looking at cattle trailers.
Over the past several years Mom began keeping a journal. It wasn’t until after her death that we started to read them. It gave us a great insight into our mother the person. lf any of you are keeping a journal now, keep it up, if you have ever considered keeping a journal, I would encourage you to do so. Someone once said any life that is worth living is worth recording. It’s true. Trust me, you’re children will thank you and it will stand as a great testament to your lives.
I don’t remember Mom ever saying a bad word about anyone (although she did always remark when I filled that void...ooh, Michael...language). She saw the good in everyone, the best in every situation and the infinite potential in each of her students.
When Lynda, Joanne and I met with the minister to discuss this memorial she asked us to choose a word to describe Mom. The first three words that came out of our mouths were...family, kindness and love. If, after 72 years of living, and...going on 50...ish years of raising a family, those left behind who loved you most choose those three words to describe you. I think you’ve lived a pretty extraordinary life...I think that stands as an amazing legacy.
So now it falls to us to carry on this legacy of family, kindness and love...and we will, because of the values Mom instilled in us. She did all that was asked of her and she did everything right. She will never be forgotten and she will always be loved. “
Until next time,
Lynda
www.musicwriter.ca
No comments:
Post a Comment