cklarock

My mother died this Friday. She passed in her sleep, most likely from a heart attack. It was a good death; clean, sudden, and without any lingering illness. There were no doctors, no nurses, no strangers and no cold floors. There were no hospital gowns, and no small humilations.

She died in her own home and was clearly at peace.

Her boyfriend found her Sunday morning, but we think she died Friday evening. He found her lying in her bed, with her hand still on a book open to the page she'd been reading.

(I had myself found her just like this many times in the past. Back then, I would close the book and turn off the light. Of course, those times she was still warm, and would wake up when she was ready. I can remember once wondering what it would be like to find her dead. It was a morbid thought at the time, but after today I can tell you what it is like to kiss a cold slab of meat that looks like a clever, but incorrectly modeled sculpture of someone you love.)

She died in her sleep. Metaphysically, she will wake up when she is ready.

The Christian message of the Ressurection -- not of Jesus, but of all humanity at Jesus' return -- is symbolic of this process. I heard my father speaking of it today. I don't know much about Jesus, but I do know this: Life, death, rebirth into higher truth. Beginnings > endings > lessons. Whether we chose it or not, this is our path; we are authors only of the particulars. The Big Picture has already been decided.

This week, I have learned that not having to make the big decisions can be a luxury.

As she fell asleep for that last time, my mother was reading Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire . There is a message there, without question. My mother was something of a Wicked Witch herself. But like Wicked, she lived a story that could be re-told from her perspective; one in which she was exonerated for her faults, and in which her poor decisions could be seen as the best possible, considering all internal and external circumstances. Today, I choose to honor her by recognizing this fact. I wish deeply and truly that I could have honored her this way in life.

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KikiBH sent me this quote: "Books...are like lobster shells, we surround ourselves with 'em, then we grow out of 'em and leave 'em behind, as evidence of our earlier stages of development."

Our bodies are the same way.

At one level, I don't wish for any of you to have to feel what it is like to lose a parent. Many of you already have. I know that in a best case scenario, you all will-- children should always outlive their parents.

But I do wish that you could all know, the way that I know right now -- to my bones and beyond -- what matters in life.

A hint: it isn't your stuff.

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Two things before I log off: My brother is DC2020. We have been together these last few days. He lost his mother, too. We are the Wicked Witch's only surviving family, and it is all on us. Sophie has been a total trooper.

Sophie also has been with us, in the thick of things, holding crying men, and helping us do what we need to do. We kicked the ass, but if she wasn't here, names would not have been taken. The fact that her set went up in the midst of this is just fucking weird. Don't forget to tell her how hot she is.

Kiss your kids, spouses, boy/girl friends, relatives, co-workers and especially moms for me today.

Jah guide.