In which I am visited by my mother

As many of you know, my mother died a year ago last April, after a prolonged fight with myelofibrosis, a fatal bone marrow disorder. A wasting disease, this illness reduced her to a living skeleton; her heart was so strong, it just kept beating, long after she had turned inward, stopped talking and had made herself ready to depart. It was excruciating to watch her decline. Three of her four daughters were with her, holding her, when she died, and the fourth was in flight.

My mother looked like a reptile when she died. I know I’m not supposed to say this, or even to have noticed it in the first place, but I couldn’t suppress the thought. Her mouth was opening and closing the way a fish’s mouth does when it’s lying on the dock, gasping for oxygen. But my mother wasn’t gasping. No breath was moving in or out. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes sort of rolled upward. Otherwise she was still. And silent. My two younger sisters were making lots of noise; they were sobbing, and we were all talking to her, holding her, urging her to let go and not to be afraid to leave us. I wondered if she heard us. Did she even knew we were there with her, or did she have to go by herself, with no one else, all alone on that last journey… I was strangely calm and controlled, even as I held onto her bony feet and joined in to the exhortations. “It’s okay, Mom, you can go ahead and let go if you need to. Don’t be afraid. We will take care of Daddy, we promise. We’ll all be okay! We love you, Mom. We love you so much, but we’ll be okay. We promise! We’ll all be okay. You can let go!” Jeannie and Libby were wracked with sobs, but I felt like I was a character in a movie, or as if I was having an out of body experience. My feelings were just flattened. How could I possibly process losing her? She was the person I loved most in the world and who, I am certain, loved me more than anyone else did. She was my guide, my savior, my best friend, my source of life. And here she lay, wasted away to the point she looked like Gollum, her bones all visible and sticking out, her skin gray, her grey hair in little flat clumps, poking every which way. I watched her, horrified, as she opened and closed her mouth, exposing her tongue and throat, gaping at nothing. As she let go of life, she looked so primitive, like a brain stem preparation, not like a human being.
I grabbed her wrist and felt for a pulse. The hospice nurse saw what I was doing, and put a stethoscope on her chest. “There’s no heart beat,” she quietly announced. Jeannie and Libby screamed out their pain… they had no words. They wailed and keened. I tried to cry, but I felt like a teenager in combat, just shell-shocked. My logical mind understood that Mom had died, but my heart couldn’t figure out what to do with that. It was too big. It was sort of like contemplating the size of the sun. Not only was it impossible to conceive of something so overwhelmingly enormous but, if I looked at it, it burned me to ash. I told myself everyone grieves differently, and not to be hard on myself, but I felt guilty and warped anyway. My sisters’ reaction seemed so much more normal. Was I broken inside? Did I love her less than they did? I didn’t think so. Was a I relieved for her, that her suffering was ended? Partly, yes. It was inevitable that this disease was going to kill her, so in some ways, honestly, it was better that she be released from her body. And, for us, the dread of her death was exhausting. Logistically, practically, everyone had to get back to day-to-day life and other responsibilities. Yet, I was losing HER. Mom, Mommy, Mooter, Meutler, Mooner, Moon-unit, Momlette, , Mither Mither on the Wall…, Maw......... Inconceivable! I should be in the fetal position, shouldn’t I?

After she died, we were all in a state of shock. It helped having the Hospice Nurse there, keeping us grounded and telling us what to do next. Jeannie insisted on bathing mom and grooming her, and dressing her in a funeral dress, even though Mom had chosen cremation. Jeannie wanted to honor our mother, and that, for her and Libby, was a way to do it. I agreed, and I announced that I was going to shave her, which was my habitual contribution to her personal care (everyone, including mom, agreed that I was the best at it). I had just finished, when Barbara Bunn, a lifelong family friend called, and I took the phone out to the seawall. Dangling my feet over the edge, I figuratively laid my head on her bosum (if such a thing can occur by telephone) and choked out my pain. By the time I returned to mom's hospital bed, my sisters had finished, and mom looked beautiful.

Every now and then, Mom visits me in my dreams. The first time she came was just a few nights after she died. I was in our kitchen at home, and she walked in. She looked plump and her hair was longer, like she wore it when she was young. "Mom! You're alive!" I cried. "Yes," she said softly and in a comforting way. "Hug me." She felt warm and I could feel her breathing. My head was at her waist, like when I was a little girl. I felt so relieved.

What did this dream signify? Did she really visit me? And tell me there is life after death, and not to worry? Or was this just a wish-fulfillment dream?

Remember in the New Testament, after Jesus's resurrection, how he asks the disciples to put their hand in his side, and feel the warmth of his flesh and blood, so they could know he was alive? That's how it felt when I hugged my mother and felt her warm, life-filled body... But did my unconscious mind just remember the Bible story?

I have other friends who say their mothers have visited them. One friend told me her mother didn't come for quite a long time after she passed away, and my friend wondered whether her mother would ever come. About 6 months after her mother died, my friend dreamed she was at a soccer game, watching her young son play, and the ball rolled into the bushes. When my friend went to retrieve it, her mother was there, back in the trees. She was wearing an elegant cocktail dress and holding a martini. A distinguished gentleman in dress-clothes accompanied her. She said, "Hello, dear! Don't worry about me; I am having a WONDERFUL time. Mr. Melanokis is entertaining me!"
My friend woke up and felt happy to know that her mother was enjoying herself, wherever she was. I just love this story. Everyone's mom should end up doing what makes her happiest, whether it's partying with a handsome Greek man or standing in her kitchen... I hope I'll end up on a tennis court, or in a dressing room on the 5th Floor at Bergdorf's trying on darling clothes that look great on me. Or skiing down a mountain in Colorado with infinite skill and grace...

My mother's best friend believes that after we die, we go to a heaven she found described in a poem. In the poem, a perfect black leopard stalks and kills a perfect rabbit; and then the rabbit just gets up and hops-- perfectly-- away.

I barely remember the rest. The funeral home came to get her, Daddy was there, someone brought over some food...

In Support of a Liberal Arts Education

I so often hear my friends saying things like, "I told my son to get a degree in business; I want him to be able to support himself after college!" or "She's majoring in German; I don't know how she'll ever get a job!"
I, on the other hand, encourage my children to study liberal arts in college. I believe the liberal arts education prepares a person for a career in any field, and prepares him or her so well that he or she will advance more quickly than a student who has studied only one narrow field in college. A liberal arts degree, composed of courses in foreign language, literature, science, history, geography, anthropology/sociology, economics, the arts and math, teaches the student HOW TO LEARN, TO THINK AND TO COMMUNICATE. Those skills translate to any job or profession!

Reading literature (fiction)gives people perspective, empathy and understanding of others whose life experience may be dramatically different in many ways than the reader's. Writing essays teaches basic writing skills, including word choice/vocabulary, proper grammer, spelling and punctuation, and organization of thoughts and ideas. Learning a foreign language reinforces these skills and adds knowledge of other cultures. Knowledge of history permits one to understand more thoroughly the impact and meaning of current events: How did this happen? Has it ever happened before? Why? How was it handled? What was the result? What lessons can be learned? How significant is this event? How can we evaluate a person's ideas if we have nothing to compare them to? How can we find solutions if we don't know the causes of problems?

Who would argue that science helps anyone better understand how the world works, cause and effect, measurement, investigation, evaluation, resourcefulness, documentation, and statistics, among other things. Most adults don't use math beyond multiplication and division on a daily basis, but understanding logic, linear thinking, spacial perception, abstract relationships and quantification enhances one's life experience and global understanding in ways too many to describe.

In most liberal arts classes, the work consists of a great deal of reading, writing, and discussing ideas. Creativity is fostered. Giving birth to an insight or idea is immensely satisfying and having the ability to express one's self, verbally and in writing, and to communicate one's knowledge and ideas is essential to effectiveness in any chosen career. Liberal arts students get plenty of practice coming up with creative ideas and insights, presenting them, and defending them; with such repetition comes capability and confidence.

In my opinion, a business degree is the equivalent of trade school. It's simply not a broad education. I hope my children will become truly well-educated in college, and then pursue their careers or vocational training in graduate school.

Bailouts are different from welfare... how???

Institutional greed is seriously problematic for our economy! We are bailing out institutional greed! It could have been prevented, through government regulation!
When did this happen before? 1929!!!
We need to insist that our govt establishes better regulations, which allow us to see inside! Disclosure, transparency...
And please! Don't just dismantle this regulation when it seems safe to do so. Human nature is human nature and greed is always there, under the surface!
Ask each candidate, senator, congressman, "What are you going to do so this doesn't happen again?" And vote based on the issues and the candidates' policies. Not on whether you LIKE the person, or have a gut sense of confidence in him or her.
Govt bail outs! Why is this okay, but paying taxes to help the poor is distasteful, is disagreeable, is stupid...
I am perplexed!