My mother died recently. She had been diagnosed with liver cancer and hearing this from my distant location, I was torn, wanting to see her one last time.
Before I left on this extended adventure we had spoken together, anticipating this, her demise, and she insisted it was unnecessary for me to return to her. But now I wanted to come. I knew she wanted to see me and yet the situation I found myself in made it, if not impossible, extremely difficult to leave.
I received a few updates from my brother who had recently retired from nursing in Prince Rupert and had temporarily moved back into the family home.
She went fast, in just over a month she was gone, released from her pain and suffering, released from the corporeal restraints of her injured and diseased body.
I grieved as I wrote to her during that short period, expressing my love and appreciation for her parenting, lessons learned and learning. The wonderful example she provided of positive attitude. Not to take life for granted, to have gratitude and acceptance of what we are shown and given. That everyone has a meaningful and relevant place on the planet even if we don't agree with them about some things.
I remember walking with her and the Voice of Women against Nuclear weapons, taking us to the beach to go swimming on my birthday (in April!) encouraging my brothers and I not to be afraid to speak up, to be free thinkers and that work was something supposed to be rewarding, not about the money.
She was a rudder in my life. Steering me into the man I am today and the lessons keep coming. How one's legacy is about the people left behind, the impact we have on children and how very, very, powerful, essential and fundamental relationship is to everything.
I miss my mother. With the deepest respect, I'm glad she is gone though, past the pain, done with her full and eventful life, her joy and sorrow. No more fear and anger, her spirit released into the cosmos.
Wanda Elizabeth your essence is carried on by all of us who remain, touched by your presence however small or large spreading out in waves and ripples beyond imagination. Thank you for life, thank you for living, thank you for dying with grace.
Before I left on this extended adventure we had spoken together, anticipating this, her demise, and she insisted it was unnecessary for me to return to her. But now I wanted to come. I knew she wanted to see me and yet the situation I found myself in made it, if not impossible, extremely difficult to leave.
I received a few updates from my brother who had recently retired from nursing in Prince Rupert and had temporarily moved back into the family home.
She went fast, in just over a month she was gone, released from her pain and suffering, released from the corporeal restraints of her injured and diseased body.
I grieved as I wrote to her during that short period, expressing my love and appreciation for her parenting, lessons learned and learning. The wonderful example she provided of positive attitude. Not to take life for granted, to have gratitude and acceptance of what we are shown and given. That everyone has a meaningful and relevant place on the planet even if we don't agree with them about some things.
I remember walking with her and the Voice of Women against Nuclear weapons, taking us to the beach to go swimming on my birthday (in April!) encouraging my brothers and I not to be afraid to speak up, to be free thinkers and that work was something supposed to be rewarding, not about the money.
She was a rudder in my life. Steering me into the man I am today and the lessons keep coming. How one's legacy is about the people left behind, the impact we have on children and how very, very, powerful, essential and fundamental relationship is to everything.
I miss my mother. With the deepest respect, I'm glad she is gone though, past the pain, done with her full and eventful life, her joy and sorrow. No more fear and anger, her spirit released into the cosmos.
Wanda Elizabeth your essence is carried on by all of us who remain, touched by your presence however small or large spreading out in waves and ripples beyond imagination. Thank you for life, thank you for living, thank you for dying with grace.
