Goodbye to My Mother

Editor's Note: I received the following piece as an email message last spring and knew immediately that I would publish it one day. We all have mothers, for better or worse, and we might all relate to this tragicomic story. The correspondent tried to submit a more formal version but it was this initial uninhibited email that has all the feeling in it. Let her know how you feel about this.

Hi Sherry,

(This message is a long one, but I just had to get it all said.)

Well,. . . it's over. It was a little sad and a little hard, but more beautiful than either of those. I finally got hold of my brother Thursday evening and he agreed with my decisions about our mother. He cancelled the remainder of his trip and said he would get the next flight back to San Francisco which wasn't until early Friday morning. I was pretty sure it would be too late, but I didn't tell him, since there wasn't anything he could do anyway.

I spent two hours with my mother on Thursday, leaning over her speaking with my mouth next to her ear and holding her hand. She had recognized me when she first saw me and I could see delight in her eyes. But now her eyes were rolled back in her head, her mouth was open and I could see she was trying to give up.

I kept telling her it was safe for her to let go, that her life did not depend on having this body, that she was not in that body and never had been, that even though she thought she was someone named Adeline Benson, she wasn't, that everyone had always told her that and she had believed it, that she had told everyone that and they had believed her, how surprised she was going to be to look down and see that body lying there and realize that was never her, that she was still a conscious being and always would be.

Words kept pouring out of my mouth for an hour and at one point she squeezed my hand but that was the only recognition she gave of being conscious. I knew she could hear me though.

I left and went home. Around 6:00 am the next morning I got the call. I sprang into motion, calling about the funeral and I can't remember what else, but about 6:30 I realized what was going on and knew it was time to sit down and be still.

The instant I got quiet I heard the words "Thank you." I knew where it was coming from. I stayed with it and entered in to meet, for the first time, this beautiful being which had a pure angelic feminine quality and which felt like youth, beauty and love. I didn't see anything, I could only experience it. I was crying at the beauty of it and saw so clearly that this was not about a person named Adeline moving on, that the Adeline part had only been a temporary role being played out for a purpose I may never know, that all my concepts of my "mother" were just that, my own concepts. It was like meeting a wonderful kindred spirit, the one I had wanted so long to communicate with in the flesh.

I called my sister-in-law and told her about the vision, to ease my brother's disappointment when he arrived home and realized he was too late. I met him in Petaluma at noon and we talked for a few minutes and then his wonderful sense of humor kicked in and the rest of the day was easy. And while a few people may think it irreverent, some things we experienced that day where hysterically funny.

We drove to the local society for 'death,' a very strange place to say the least. The reception area was decorated in "way-too-cheery." On the table, carefully fanned out were about 25 past issues of People Magazine, a box of Kleenex and two containers jammed full with emeryboards imprinted with their name and address! (What's the connection, will someone please tell me?)

We were escorted into the counselor's room and were then faced with those inevitable decisions, like picking out a wooden casket to house the remains during cremation. Naturally they started by showing us photographs of "top-o-the-line" handcarved mahogony museum quality items, padded and lined with satin with an optional viewing hatch which went for somewhere in the neighborhood of $3800. You could see how a person's need for approval would determine how much they were going to feel obligated to spend. But how much do you spend for something that is to be thrown into the oven? The decision required balance.

Next, what was our final wish for the remains, the ashes? Would we like to reserve a space there to have them on public display forever for everyone's viewing pleasure? I don't think so! Our plans were to go out in my brother's sailboat and scatter the ashes into the bay. The counselor said by law, regardless of what the family intends to do with the ashes, they must be carried away in a plastic bag inside another container, and since they also offered a collection of those "other containers," we were left alone to browse through the well-stocked "gift shop."

It immediately brought back memories of a very humorous movie I once saw about Forrest Lawn, (the world famous burial ground in Los Angeles) which parodied the whole funeral process.

You would not believe the vast array of containers available for those who want to keep the remains of their dear departed family members in a style which can be seamlessly incorporated into their home decor! For about $2800 one can purchase a large black hollowed-out fake granite rock highlighted with green embossing over which four brass dolphins are gleefully leaping! When you turn it over, there is a hidden trap door which opens up to the ashes stored inside. This is the perfect accent for any den or living room.

There were all kinds of Grecian style pottery urns in every imaginable color and one lovely looking blown glass piece with rainbow metalic swirls. My brother picked it up and saw that it was as light as an egg shell. He shook his head and said, "Hm-m-m-m, no, I'm afraid this would never do. The kids would be knocking this thing off the mantle and getting Aunt Gertie's ashes all over the carpet!"

For those who do not wish to "display" the remains forever, there is yet another option. You can purchase a small finely crafted wooden box with satin lining which you use just to carry the ashes away for disposal. There was a variety to choose from starting at about $250. I'm not sure what function the box is supposed to have after disposing of the ashes. Cigars? We didn't ask.

When the counselor returned we tried to keep a straight face and told her we hadn't found anything that appealed to us. Then she did something which I am sure was intended to help us with our decison and she showed us the "free" model, a small ugly brown hard plastic box with a clacky lid on top. At this point, my brother and I were unable to contain ourselves and we looked at each other and burst out laughing. The sight of this tacky monstrosity surely must have sent many a grieving soul racing back into the gift shop! I finally said, "Wait a minute, if the law says you must take the ashes out in some kind of a container, is there any law against bringing our own container?" She had to admit there wasn't.

We agreed that I would make something that would be more appropriate and meaningful. I envisioned some kind of a soft, pretty velvet bag.

the next day I went to the fabric store. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but as I wandered around through row after row of fabrics, slowly the thing began to come together. All the pieces kind of selected themselves and when I placed them on the counter and looked at them, I was amazed at what I saw and realized that I had had nothing to do with it. They were colors I never would have chosen and certainly never could have visualized as working together. The saleslady said, "My, this must be for something very special!"

I finished it late Saturday night and when I got up Sunday morning to look at my handiwork, I realized it reflects the vision I had of Youth, Beauty and Love. The bag has a circular bottom onto which the fabric is stitched and lightly gathered up and tied near the top. It's made of a heavy supple velvet in a subdued aqua blue with a very slight shimmer to it. It's lined with an antique green/gold crushed satin which folds back over the top to make a two inch border trim. It is pulled together near the top with a twisted satin cord in exactly the same aqua blue as the velvet. Under the tie of the chord are two large ivory and pale peach silk roses with green/gold silk leaves - the tips of some of the petals are lightly touched with antique gold gilding, exactly matching the satin lining. The roses are cradled into a delicate hand crocheted beige lacy doily. As I look at it I can hardly believe how beautiful it is.

During the night I had a dream that my brother and I were in the boat scooping out the contents of the bag and letting them go into the water. Each scoop represented concepts we had held about our mother. When I woke up I remembered a bit of prose from the Course of Miracles and retrieved it from my bookshelf. Part of it reads "Let every image held of everyone be loosened from our minds and swept away." I will read the whole passage to him when we are out on the bay.

And then, it will be time to move on.

Sherry, thank you for letting me get this said.

Love, Sharon

©1995 Sharon Benson Rockey. Sharon Rockey lives in Sonoma, California, in the midst of the beautiful wine country. Rockey serves as Director of Online Communications for the North Bay Multimedia Association. She owns WebSpin Studios, a website development company and can be reached at sayrock@sonic.net.

Going Home, also by Sharon Rockey.
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