When Mom passed away on Sunday we weren’t crowded around her bed. Kristin was discovering the latest, gotta-watch-it fun on the internets (something to do with double rainbows, you dig?). The Bear and I were hunched over the dining room table finishing a jigsaw puzzle. A few weeks earlier Mom had decided that she would like to work on a puzzle just one last time. As with everything else, the Bear and Kristin jumped on this opportunity. The Bear bought a puzzle and a gizmo that theoretically allows you to roll up the puzzle mid-puzzling. I said “theoretically”.
Anyhoo, Mom struggled to put any pieces together. Granted, Mom being Mom, she picked the toughest part of the puzzle. Just piece after piece of a cobblestone road that the Bear and I had decided to avoid until the last possible moment. Mom was beyond frustrated. As a woman who valued her intellect she was truly frantic when she realized that she was no longer the sharpest of tacks. It was her medicine, it was her illness, it was death knocking on her door. No matter the cause, the effect stunk. Eventually we rolled up that puzzle and put it off to the side where it stayed until Sunday afternoon.
When Kristin called over to us to tell us she thought that Mom was gone I felt a tug of guilt. That’s not unusual. In my family we eat guilt for breakfast. Then we wash it down with more guilt for not eating a better breakfast. This particular guilt was centered around not being there for Mom when she gave up the ghost. As if being fifteen feet away somehow invalidated our time with her. We’d been by her side night and day for over a month when she let go. Maybe she decided that it would be easiest to drift off without someone monitoring her every breath? I dunno. But that’s how it happened. I’m starting to feel better about not holding her hand as she ended her time with us. There’s still a hangnail of guilt though and those things can get pretty nasty in a hurry.
So tonight I sat down and I made myself finish that puzzle. Or I almost did. There is one piece missing. I hate to knock you over the head with a load of cheese after you’ve been so nice to read my blog, but I’m thinking Mom has that piece hidden somewhere. She’d think that was funny. It won’t stop me from scrambling on the floor on all fours tomorrow morning looking for it. Tonight, though, I’m going to let Mom have a smirk on me.
Pepper,
I never know what to say to people about loss of a loved one but I do think that it is wonderful for a proud woman like your mother to be able to leave in some peace, quiet, and privacy, which have become more and more difficult to obtain in this day and age. You and your family will smile again; each smile washing away the guilt.
As a mom, I know that Mom’s don’t ‘rest’ until their children are safely & happily occupied or beautifully sleeping. And, from the novel “DALVA” by Jim Harrison – “Rancorous self-judgment is a Prostestant vice that never did anyone any good.”
Your words here have been and are a blessing to many. You have bestowed a great gift. May we continue to bless and carry you in days ahead.
love it!
Pep – This made me smile. In my family, we always fight over who gets to put in the last piece of the puzzle so inevitably, when we get to the end, there are 4 or 5 pieces missing because everyone stole one piece while we were putting it together. The last hold out wins.
I can’t wait to see you until I can give you the longest, most uncomfortable hug ever!
-Mickey.