Happy birthday mom

On my deceased mother's birthday, I did not visit her grave. It was too far away, I wouldn't have remembered where she was located in the cemetery, her name wasn't inscribed yet, and I just don't feel like she is "there." I would have gotten no comfort from it. It would have been a waste of time and gas.

Then I start to think about what she would have expected from me. In the months before her death, did she envision what people would do and how they would feel after she died? Did she expect people (me) to cover her grave with flowers for every birthday and holiday? The truth is, I don't really care to do that. She's not there. I don't need to put flowers on a spot on the ground to honor her memory. I honor her memory inside, in private.

We'd like to believe that our surviving family and friends would honor us for years and years after our deaths. The fact is that for most people, you move on. You feel less of a need to place flowers on a grave, or light a candle in church on a holiday. Eventually you put away those photos that you had all over the house, and leave one really good one that will collect dust like all the others.

I think what bothers me about not visiting my mother's grave is what people will think of me. Maybe her boyfriend has been visiting the grave and wondering why there are no flowers. Maybe mom's friends do put flowers there. I should feel ashamed for not tending to her grave--it's my mother! Of course, I could hide behind the excuse, "It's too painful for me to go there." But the bottom line is, would they be disappointed in me?

One month and three days

That's how long ago my mom died. I think about her all the time. I try to imagine she is in heaven, but I don't really believe that. She is just ashes in the ground, except for the handful that the funeral director gave to me and my sister so we could each spread some ashes in a special place for mom. I have this little, gold, cardboard box with a small part of her in it. I know exactly where it's going.

So many people prayed for mom. I wonder if they think that God didn't answer their prayers. I wonder how they can have hope that there is a God when He didn't give this wonderful woman her miracle. Maybe they thought the miracle was that she was surrounded by people who loved her, and that she passed peacefully at the end.

The end was peaceful. If there could be a perfect death, she had it. From the time she turned to me, looked me in the eye, and said, "I'm done," she was surrounded with love. Once the morphine kicked in, she didn't open her eyes, except when the nurses moved her or turned her over. Her closest friend said the rosary. I don't know what that was supposed to do, but I'm sure it gave them and my mom comfort.

Her closest friends stayed with us in hospice. People who knew her stopped by to visit. Special friends and family took a few private minutes with her to say their goodbyes. They say the hearing is the last to go, and that when a patient is on morphine, they are still aware of what is around them by sound. So we talked to her. We had a pizza party in her room, so if what they say is true, then she would have enjoyed having us surrounding her and laughing together. She would have felt the love.

I was worried that mom wouldn't hold on long enough for my sister to get there, because she had to fly in. She made it. They say that a dying person may wait for a particular person before they let go. I don't know if it's true or not, but I wanted my sister to be there at the end because our mom would have wanted that.

Later, the friends all left me and my sister for the night. She and I chatted in the dark and laughed like sisters do. Then we dozed off.

A little while later, my sister woke me up, saying that mom's breathing sounded different. We each got on one side of her and I talked to her and told her it was okay for her to go when she was ready, and that we would be fine. Then she opened her eyes. She wasn't focusing on anything, but we tried to get in her line of vision. I kept talking to her, reassuring her. Then her eyes suddenly closed and her breathing slowed... and then stopped.

They say that sometimes a dying person will see a light. Maybe she saw her "light" when she opened her eyes, and chose her time to go when she closed them.

It was 12:30 a.m. The room was dark and quiet. It was just the three of us. It was perfect.

A wedding, and I "outed" myself

A wedding is the last place you think you'd have to worry about being an atheist. The ceremony is all about the couple. As an atheist, I am very discrete about my beliefs. I just go along with it. The ceremony had blessings and bible readings (which I mostly zoned out for). There was no long, drawn-out mass like some Christian marriages.

The problem is after the ceremony, at the reception. Who did I end up sitting next to? The reverend and his wife. Yeah, thanks! They were very nice people. I wonder what they would have thought if they knew that I think religion is bullshit. Not that I'd ever start something because it's nobody's business.

There are a few in my husband's family who are aware that my daughter ("E") is atheist. My SIL knows, and started talking to me about how she is nervous for her atheist son to visit over the holidays because he is one of those "angry" atheists who thrive on shoving his opinions onto others. I despise people like that. That is why I try very hard to be open-minded about religion in general.

I told SIL that she has every right to honor her religion in her house, and she should ignore her son or tell him to shut up or get out. Then I told her that even though E and I are both atheist (not sure if she realized it about me), that there is no need to even talk about stuff like that. Religion and politics are personal and many arguments arise from those topics. So, just don't go there! That's my opinion.

Anyway, we were having this nice chat about how she might deal with her son and all the chaos he could potentially cause. I glanced to the other side of the table to see SIL's cousin listening intently. Crud. Some things I just don't want others to know. This cousin is VERY religious, and is a Eucharistic minister (meaning she can give communion at a Catholic mass). I'm sure there'll be some gossip about me, but whatever. It's the same as when we all found out about the one cousin's daughter being gay. Everyone eventually got over it and nobody thinks twice about it now. It is what it is.