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.

The Angel cards

My mother was introduced to angel cards. Her group of friends does this when they go to Nags Head every year. The way it works is you infuse your power into the cards by touching each one, then you fan them and place them on your chest. Next you close your eyes and think of a question or something you want. Then you pick your card. The card will give you insight into what you wished for and provides a prayer.

The cards my mom has are specifically for healing, because she is battling cancer. Of course I play along with the angel card game. I am the person who is with mom the most, and she really enjoys playing this game with me every day. She has chosen some cards that are right on the mark with her and what she is going through. She truly believes what the cards are telling her. One of them referred to a "miracle." That is exactly what she wants. She wants a miracle to cure her so she has more time. That particular card pissed me off because there will be no miracle, and what do I say to her when she asks where her miracle is?

You know that "psychic" John Edwards who claims to communicate with dead people and we all know he's a fake? Yeah, the cards are like that. Those who need to believe will stretch as far as they can to find relevance. In a way it's harmless, I suppose. If taken too literal, it can be a bit devastating.

The cards are okay. It's something mom likes me to do with her, and my feigned interest is the least I can do. It's helping her hold onto hope that she will win the battle over cancer. I hope she gets her miracle.

Regrets

I wish I never told my mom I didn't believe in God. It seemed harmless at the time, but now that she is battling cancer, and possibly losing, I wonder if it bothers her that I don't believe in God. What if she thinks God is punishing me by taking her away? Silly thought, I know.

We talk about religion. I'm not against it, it's just not for me. She needs to talk about God and prayers. That is what she thinks is giving her strength. It's comforting to her to know that people are praying for her. I don't pray for her. I spend time with her and help her. Prayers are nice, but they don't feed her, dress her, or pay her bills.

My sister has a friend who is a hospice nurse. She told her how people at the end stage of their lives might see people. One patient in particular told her she saw a man but she didn't know who he was. The nurse told the sick woman to ask the man to come closer so she could see him, but she still didn't know who he was. The nurse then told the woman to describe the man. The woman said he had long white robes. The nurse told the woman that she could take the man's hand and walk with him if she wanted to.

Interesting.

My thought is that at the end of your life, when you are quite possibly delirious, you might see things or imagine them in your mind and they might look very real. I think it is planted in our minds what heaven and our end will be like. We're told of a white light, pearly gates, the forms of deceased loved ones, and maybe a man in flowing white robes--Jesus?

I'd like to think that my mom might have such visions. I would love for her to see her son, Brian. It would give her great peace at the end to know she is going with her son. Of course I don't believe that actually happens, but at the end, people need to not be afraid. I think the end is scarier for a non-believer. If the afterlife is all a farce, at least it is a way for people to die without worry.

See, I don't want to die. I won't be reunited with my brother. I'll be dust.

This is a tough one

My mother may have cancer. We're still waiting to talk to the oncologist and have more tests, but it's looking pretty grim. I know my mom is comforted by the people offering prayers for her. I really don't think prayers will save her, but hopefully they will empower her to fight though this. At times like this it's frustrating to not have a higher power to appeal to. My feeling is that whatever happens, happens... and there's not much you can do about it. Even though I don't believe in prayer, I'm more than happy to have people pray for my mom because then she will believe it's possible to get through this.

The minister's wife

It's interesting to me that some people are so presumptuous about religion. I had a yard sale at my house today. I met so many really nice people. Most will wish me good luck with the yard sale as they leave.

One very nice lady took her purchases, thanked me, then headed to her car. A few seconds later she was back and handing me a pamphlet. She told me that her husband is a minister for a small Baptist congregation. Then she asked what church we attended. I said, "We go to Calvary... right down the road." Okay, I'm not exactly a member, but I did attend mass with my son a few times, so I can't say I was outright lying to the woman. She proceeded to tell me that if we ever wanted to attend a smaller congregation, they are Christian, and we are more than welcome.

Obviously, we won't be visiting her church. I could have been mean and told he we don't believe in God. Instead, I took her offer in the way it was intended. She meant to share something that is good, maybe because she saw us as nice people. On the other hand, I think religion is a very personal thing. It's like... you wouldn't go up to a woman and offer Weight Watchers pamphlets assuming she wants or need to consider her weight. And you certainly wouldn't randomly go up to a man and invite him to a gay-only club!

I think it's a risk to be presumptuous about a person's beliefs or lifestyle. Most times I take the gesture as someone being nice, and I they must find something appealing about me to invite me to join in something that is so personal and meaningful to them.

I did read the literature she gave me and the most disturbing thing I read:

"The Bible is our sole authority for faith and practice."

(Thanks, but I'll pass!)

Anyway, I thanked the woman for her kindness and thoughtfulness. I feel bad that she wasted a perfectly good pamphlet on me though.