Postcards of Grief

Mourning is a process.

Comments on breast cancer by proxy, written by a woman coping with the loss of her mother.

Monday, July 12, 2004

Comments for one another

As if it weren’t enough that the bathroom still isn’t done, I’ve got Mom on the brain.

She’s everywhere lately. Most recently, she popped into my brain while I made tea this afternoon. I had been thinking about my best friend and her family of origin, probably spawned from a conversation I had with Brooke this morning. Heather’s paternal grandmother is quite ill and lives with Heather’s parents. She’s a polar opposite from Heather’s maternal grandmother, a quick witted, friendly woman who worked as a nurse for years and years. I remembered that she died earlier this year and wondered if I had told Mom and reminded myself to ask her.

Ask who?

Mom’s doctor made a surprise appearance on the radio over the weekend, and I thought about the last time that I saw her. She was saying goodbye to Mom. “Goodbye” meaning, “it was really nice knowing you, and I’m so sorry that you’re going to die so soon.” Meaning, “this is the very last time I’m going to see you because I couldn’t save your life.”

Mom cried a lot that day. Dr. L cried a little, too. It was in stark contrast to the meeting we had had earlier that day with Reverend Brown. With Dr. L, the focus was ending the relationship. With Rev. Brown, it was forming it, creating it, learning Mom and sending her off to the next stage of her existence. There was creation present there.

In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Dumbledore tells Harry that to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. I think I have more organizing to do.


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