For my Mother

Nine years ago today, I bid my mother a final farewell. I remember it clearly, sitting in the small hospital room, the monitors blinking and the generic sounds of hospital care a discordant background to the reality that was unfolding. Nine years of grief, of letting go while holding on, not willing to say good bye. Of longing so profound, no tear wept could hold the sorrow.

Words are such a poor substitute for a life, but they are all I have. These poor words strain against the stark reality of loss to express love, gratitude; a multitude of emotions that fight against such one-dimensional representations that are words.

Nine years ago, I sat in a small room in a hospital in the middle of the desert, holding my mother’s hand while she slipped inexorably away. The labored breathing, the chill of death settling in the feel of her skin, the coldness of her hands, the faltering readings on the heart monitor echoing the fading life within…

So, what words can truly say good bye? The strength of my will could not stop her passing, my strong hands could not hold on to stop her passing; while her gentle touch steadied my first steps into life, in the end, my touch could only witness her first steps beyond life. All the days of her life dedicated to her children came to this, a small hospital room in the desert, her children holding her hand as she slowly, inexorably slipped away.

You live long enough and sorrow will visit you. It will barge through the door and set up shop in your life and follow you every step of the day. Every beautiful sight, every good feeling will be tinged with the shadow that they are not there. That you are experiencing the world alone, without them.

But in the world ravaged by the darkness of sorrow, there remains hope. Hope that tomorrow, as a bright sun rises, the darkness of sorrow fades and the light of joyous memory surges into awareness. That the love that gave us life comes to the fore and reminds us of all the good of their presence in our lives. Our loss can be but a moment of sorrow, a brief darkness, but our life going forward can be a tribute to the love they had for us.

I do not believe in an absolute, but I absolutely know my mother loved me and that love was the guiding light in my life for forty-three years. In the dark times since her death, I failed to realize, while the light in her eyes was gone, the light of her love lives on in my heart, in every kind act I can make, in all my generosity, in my empathy for others, she is there, standing beside me in all my actions that are good in the world. For I am the legacy of her love for others, for the less fortunate, for friends and family. I am the legacy of her love for me.

In the end, the hope of life is in the love that remains. We lose the physical presence of those we love, but we never lose their love for it lives on in us. In the depths of sorrow, we can only feel our pain, the agony of loss masks the power of their love. But, in time, the clouds of sorrow part, and their love shines through, brightening our lives and restoring hope, however brief it may be. But it is always there, shining behind the clouds of grief.

It is a courageous thing to welcome the light of their love. The shadow of grief is a reminder of loss, and loss is the last memory we have of those we love. To let go of that last memory and embrace their love feels like a betrayal. Letting go of the loss can feel as if the event was trivial. But it isn’t. Embracing the love of those we have lost allows us to transcend the loss of their lives and focus on what was important about their lives, the fact that they loved us.

So, the question remains, what words can truly say good bye? There are no words that can say good bye. Our words are for the living. Our actions are for their memory. I don’t have to say good bye, I just have to live true to who I am to honor the man she made out of her body and her love. I wouldn’t be were it not for her. I wouldn’t be me were it not for her love. She sent me into the world trusting that her love had made something good. That is the only man I can be.