Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The long goodbye: Saying goodbye to my mother... for the last time
Sometime 2006 - I received a text message from my sister: mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. I looked up what it meant. Hmmm, some neurological disease that attacks the nerves, cure unknown. Then began my family's journey with a disease often described as the 'long goodbye'.
Christmas 2006 - I am cleaning the bathroom sink. I have just finished the scrubbing the floor. I sense a presence staring at me. It was mother, staring blankly at me, as if I was some stranger.
2007, 2008 - Long two years. Calls home became infrequent. Insomnia trying to get into my life... again. I dreaded checking my cellphone. Two major surgeries for mother in two years. Everything a blur. Days being marked by twice-a-month trips to the bank.
Christmas 2007 - ???
8AM, 1st November, 2008- Sitting at the back of a truck, on the way to a church activity. Received a text message from my sister: mother is in serious condition: Knocked on the roof of the truck, had to get off. Didn't matter that it was a lonely road. On the way home, I call my wife: need to go home today. can you book me a ticket?
By some good turn of events, the airline ticketing office was open, on a holiday. Even better was getting a ticket on one of the busiest days of the year. Grabbed a quick lunch, pack some clothes-yellow shirt, red shirt, heck.
In half an hour I was at the office, sending instructions to colleagues in case I may need some more time back home. Kept receiving updates every 15 minutes. After a few hours, got the call. She's gone!
I sit at my chair, stunned. Walked a bit to the rest room, sat on the seat and wept. A few minutes later, I was on my way to the airport to catch a 5PM flight.
6PM - I am at the airport, hailing a taxi for the morgue. At the funeral homes, I take a seat close to the door of one of the rooms. Someone comes and offers a drink, I decline. After almost an hour, I spot my brother-in-law, carrying one of mother's blouses-the one she wore on my wedding, I think. My niece comes in, then my brother and sister, then father. We take a walk downstairs to the morgue. On the table was mother, almost ready to be brought home. No signs of the disease that took her. She looked as beautiful at her prime.
We took her home on the limousine. At home, I was met by strangers, not strangers to the rest of the family. Funeral guys set up the lamps and coffin stand. Not in the mood for dinner. All I want is privacy, for everyone to stay at a distance and just allow immediate family to gather and speak to her, reassuring ourselves that everything is in God's hands.
Surprisingly, I didn't cry. On the plane, I had decided to be strong for the family. To allow them to grieve while I 'keep everything together.' Slept in the same room about six feet from the coffin.
2nd November 2008 - Relatives started to arrive - many of them I've met again after nearly a decade. They truly helpful Christians. Kept the family encouraged without being churchy.
3rd November 2008 - Wife arrives, met her at a shopping mall while I bought some supplies. Had dinner with her before going home.
The rest of the days leading up to the funeral were a blur. I marked the hours by frequent trips to the bathroom. 'Keeping everything together' resulted to days of indigestion and diarrhea.
On the eve of the funeral, we came to a decision that I deliver the eulogy. I collapse in exhaustion. How does one describe my mother in a few minutes? I was tired due to lack of sleep, frequent trips to the bathroom and 'keeping everything together.' My wife, a very wise woman, told me just what I need to her, Go to sleep, you will know what to say tomorrow.
8th of November 2008 - We carry the coffin into the waiting limousine while the rest of the family were singing Still.
At the cemetery, I stand in front of a crowd - mostly strangers. All wanting to pay their final respects to mother. I delivered a spontaneous eulogy then we said our final goodbyes. No tears came out, still keeping everything together.
I am at peace. Whatever pain she was experiencing is gone. She can freely move around now, hip is A-ok.
Postcript: Someone once said that life is meant to be lived forward and understood backward. A lot of great things have transpired since and my family has changed so much through mother's final years.
Almost two years to the day of the funeral, my wife gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, nine years after we got married. A miracle.
Whenever my patience is tested, I close my eyes and see my father taking care of my mother, who most probably no longer recognized him-I would not wish that pain on anyone.
Whenever I find it challenging to love, I think about the times he carried her in his arms from one place to another. I think of the many sleepless nights he spent listening to her breathe.
I am blessed to have seen such an example of intense love.
a.m.d.g.
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