Like It or Like It

Previous to my mom's passing, I had little experience with death. Just lucky, I guess? I'd had friends, co-workers, and family members pass, but I'd never been there. I'd never seen the moments before or experienced the wondering ("Push the button. Get the nurse. Is she...gone?"), nor had I held the hand of someone after their last heartbeat was confirmed. I'm here to tell you that it's impossible....and beautiful...and important. My mom wanted to pass from this world peacefully. She never said my sister and I needed to be there. I'm sure that might have been part of what she meant by "peace," but I can't know for sure. There's a lot of things I can't know for sure. Now. I will never know if she knew I was there - that we were there - or that I held her hand until the doctor finally arrived to make it official. The nurse said she wasn't struggling as she neared the end; I have to assume she wasn't afraid. She knew what it all meant and chose to medicate herself away. In the nearly twenty-four hours it took her to die, I'm sure she came to terms with the finality of it all. Like me, my mom was an atheist. Like it or like it, the end is the end. My sister - a former Christian and a recent convert to Judaism - saw angels as our mom left and spoke tearfully of God's mercy. We were both in the room and yet we experienced the moment of her death very differently; just as we are coping with the aftermath - our grief and recovery - differently. We agreed to honor our mother's wishes, then we chose divergent paths. And that's ok. There's no right or wrong. We didn't have the same relationship with our mother when she was alive; nothing says we have to have the same relationship with her death. And that's ok.  

I'm not going to sit here and act like I'm some newly minted expert on death and dying. My knowledge wouldn't fill half a thimble, and for that I am grateful. However, I would be remiss if I didn't put some thoughts together on the subject...even if it only serves as a reminder on down the road. Because, as I said the night my mom was dying, it comes for all of us eventually. It will come for me again. 

(1) It's going to be impossible and awful and the most difficult moment of your life, but if you get the chance to see someone off - especially a spouse, partner, or parent - do it. You will wish for many things as you whittle away your loved one's last moments - eternal life, a cigarette, a shot of whiskey, a bump of coke, dark chocolate. You will want to run away; the last place you will want to be is in that hospital room. It will smell like death long before death arrives. You will know this, not because you know what death smells like, but because what else could it be? Don't be afraid. It's not your time. There is nothing to fear regardless what you believe - that will come later. Her hand may feel different - cool, sweaty, near lifeless or maybe you haven't held it in decades - Hold it anyway. If you are lucky (Yes, lucky) enough to spend those very last moments, do it. My mom never would have left my side so I'd be damned if I was going to leave hers, just because it seemed so impossible and awful. Don't you f***ing leave either.

(2) Stay as long as you want...until it starts to seem weird. Her hand will start to feel different. That's when you know to pull away. She's not there. She doesn't know she's on her own. And so are you. Let go. You have to. 

(3) Siblings and other relations are going to grieve differently. I'd have flown home the next day and gone back to work (Yes, really), but there was work to be done. There's actually lots of work. If you have to plan a memorial or a funeral, God bless you. If you have to hash that out with family members, oy. I wish you luck. Fortunately, my sister and I didn't have to deal with any of that. Mom wanted to be cremated and left minimal instructions for what to do with her ashes (except to say she didn't want to be spread over water...weird. She could swim). This caused no consternation within me. Good thing, because it absolutely tortured my sister. Here's a snippet of an early conversation (We had literally 1,872 more in the five days I was in Minnesota):

Kelly: I think I want her close [regarding Mom's ashes]

Me: How about the living room?

Kelly: Not that close. 

We seriously went back and forth for days. We visited cemeteries that have cremation plots (It is, in fact, a thing. I had no idea) and assessed them for safe walkability from my sister's house (no crossing the highway) and whether Mom would like "being" there. I promise y'all I wanted to throttle her a zillion and one times. It was hard. I didn't care and she CARED. My mom's ashes became a huge deal for my sister - and here's the life lesson -  I had to let them be. Kelly is mourning and will mourn our mother very differently than me. And again, that's ok. 

Further evidence... I wanted to get to work on my mom's apartment right away. I had to get home and get back to work; I didn't have a month to dilly-dally. Hell, I didn't really have the five days I gave to it. Anyway, I pressed and won that one. We started with the "easy" stuff - perishable food, non-perishable food, and toiletries. I was good with tossing what couldn't be donated and moving on. I should have checked. I attempted to throw away an open package of - I don't recall - dental flossers maybe and got raked. Stacee, we need to ask each other before we throw anything away. But they're just dental flo-- Never mind. I pulled the flossers out of the trash and asked (For the record, they were a no). In my mind's eye, I saw our progress screeching to a halt if we had to micromanage every little decision. I agreed, keeping the begrudging nature of my capitulation to myself. 

Look, I'm no saint. Kelly gets on my nerves, always has, but no more than I get on hers and always have. In the day, I would have gone ten rounds to the death over that kind of bullshit. But....F*** me... I promised my mom - as she was nearing her last breaths - that I would take care of Kelly, that Kelly would be alright. I would make sure of that (I also promised her we'd vote a democrat into office and try to get a woman elected president in our lifetimes). Mom never worried about me - I liked to think I am as strong as she was - but she worried about Kelly. The only way I could think of to convince her to leave this world was to make that promise. I didn't make it lightly, dammit, and I intended to keep it. 

I let my sister have her way because it was more important to her than it was to me. Pick your battles. In the aftermath, it can't be all about you. It has to be about everyone. No one's grief or sadness should ever be placed above that of anyone else. Case in point, my sister knew that writing our mom's obituary was important to me and, though she retained editorial control over the final draft, I got to write it. 

(4)  A lot of talking goes on after someone dies. Literally EVERYONE wants to talk - from nurses and other caregivers to neighbors and friends. They want to express their condolences; they are grieving, too, in their way. They may say some awesome things. They may also ask what you're going to do with your mother's antique kitchen cabinet. They'll ask about memorials and funeral arrangements. And they'll bring food. For me, it was a beating. I talked more in those five days following my mother's death than I have in ages. Friends would call and I'd let it go to voicemail. Beyond a certain point, I didn't have anymore words. None I wanted to say out loud anyway. I guess the lesson here is that everyone experiences it all differently. Some may be dying to talk, but others - like me - may crave silence. Offer to help or talk then back away. I knew I had huge support network literally all over the world . Don't be offended if you offer to help/talk/whatever is rebuffed. This is about them, not you. 

Let's summarize - 

1. Be there...if you are lucky enough to be able to be. 
2. Stay until it gets weird, then let go.
3. Acknowledge the grief of others and pick your battles.
4. Don't be offended if someone grieving rebuffs you. 

I hope I remain a novice at all this. None of it is fun but when it comes as it will, we all need to be ready. Death can bring out the worst in people. Don't let it. My mom would be PISSED if she found out Kelly and I were acting like assholes. Honestly, that made me try a lot harder; it makes me try harder. I've just opened this chapter of my life. Really, my sister and I have. I'm sure more lessons will come. I can tell you what my mom would say about it all. Stacee, she'd say, you have two choices. You can either like it or like it.  Alright, Mom, I guess I'll like it.

But I'm going to like it like I like the snow in Michigan.