Two years ago today, my Mom died. One week prior, I received a call from my sister saying she was taking her to the hospital for flu-like symptoms. In the ensuing avalanche of diagnoses that tumbled over our hearts, my Mom was swept away within 7 days. Less than 168 hours.
My Mom died as she lived. Fierce. Brave. Strong. With gumption and energy and wit and gusto and dignity and humor and sharpness. Though it absolutely devastated me and my family, my Mom died with so much life…and for that I am grateful. Nobody had to take her in. Nobody had to worry about her. Nobody had to make plans for her. Nobody had to watch as she diminished into nothing. She died as she lived: independently and vigorously. This, ultimately, is what she wanted.
Here are some pictures showing my Mom’s…life-ness:
Along with these pictures, I found this, written by my Mom between 1992-1993.
Lots and lots of misses. That is now the burden I must carry.
Lots and lots of life. That is now the glory I must reflect.