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 'My
Mother, My Angel'
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'A very personal dedication'
Including my most treasured photograph |
I remember when I was a little girl hearing stories of my
grandmother. I
never knew her but felt as though I did.
I remember the first time that I saw her picture.
She was the most beautiful woman I had ever set my eyes
on. She was so
beautiful, so feminine, so elegant, so poised.
My mother was so proud of her and loved her so much. She always called her mother her angel. She would tell me wonderful stories of when she was a little
girl. How her
mother took care of her, took her to church, to school, how she
taught her how to do so many things.
She told me of all the wonderful times they had together.
She also told me of how her mother comforted her when she
was sad. It seemed
as though her mother was the most perfect lady that ever lived!
I grew to love my grandmother so, although I had never
had the opportunity to meet her.
I grew to almost idolize this most perfect person that
ever lived. She
often recounted these lovely memories, which were the happiest
days of my own mother’s life.
Then, when she was twelve years old, tragedy struck and
my mother’s life would never be quite as happy again.
When she was twelve years old, her mother took suddenly ill and
died in a matter of days. Even
at that young age she perceived that she died because of a
doctor’s negligence, although she never could tell me exactly
what the illness was. My
mother never got over her death.
Not until the day that she, herself died. She would tell me in such detail as to how she watched as the
sudden illness struck my grandmother and then how she watched
her angel leave her side never to return again.
Even as a little girl, I saw her grief and pain.
I believe that is when I was introduced to compassion.
Through her eyes, I felt the loss of her one true love.
I felt as if I, myself, was there as she had lost her
best friend, her comforter, her protector.
From that moment on, she lost the joy and hope that every child
should have. Her
life became full of sorrow.
They say time heals all wounds.
With my mom, a big scar grew over her wound.
I don’t think it really ever healed.
Sometimes you would almost see the scar open a bit, as if
to bleed a little, as I watched the sorrow in her eyes as she
would recount the story every now and then.
She grew up, from the age of 12 through her college years
without her best friend and role model, making the best of
everything. She
told me of her loneliness, how she couldn’t make friends, she
just didn’t fit in. So
she immersed herself in her school work and that became her
life. My mother
excelled in school. She
graduated from the University of New Mexico, majoring in Math,
Suma Cum Laude, an incredible feat for a woman in that day and
time.
As a little girl and while growing up, my mother was my heroine,
as she excelled in everything she did.
Yes, to me my mother was the most wonderful perfect lady
in the world, and the most beautiful too.
My mother became my best friend and I idolized her as she
had once idolized her mother.
Every Saturday would be a mother and daughter day.
We always made it a point to do something together.
We would go ice skating, we would go to the movies, she
would take me to shows, in the spring and summer we would have
wonderful picnics in the park, trips to the beach.
Every Saturday was our own special day.
One day I grew up. I
fell in love, married, and had my own little girl.
My mother and I were no longer a pair.
Our lives had separated and we both began a new chapter,
a new relationship. I
had my little girl now to take care of and to love, to start
wonderful new traditions with. My parents grew older and retired to Florida, and
the distance between my mother and me became so much the
greater, but we had the telephone.
On our special day, Saturday, I would always call her and
we would talk. If
anything wonderful happened, or anything sad happened, I would
pick up the phone and call my mom.
“Guess what happened?”
This would be our relationship for the next thirty years.
There were visits here and there, but there would always
be a goodbye.
I loved my own little girl and whenever I had a difficult
decision, I always thought, “What would mom have done?”
And my decision was made.
My little girl and I traveled life’s paths, had our own
wonderful times, our sad times, made our own traditions.
And then something happened.
My little girl grew up.
She fell in love and got married.
And now she has a little girl of her own.
We now have the relationship of talking on the phone
every week. If
something good or something bad happens, we call each other,
“Guess what happened?”
and now my little girl builds memories with her little
girl.
On October 20, 2001, my mother’s and my paths joined again.
It was the day that the love of her life, her partner,
would leave her never to return again. I went to Florida to tie loose ends up and bring my mother
home to live with me. We
had fun again, my mother and me, my role model, my comforter, my
protector, and my confidant.
We went shopping, cooked together and talked. Oh how we
talked! We talked
about old times, when I was a little girl,
her retirement years, and she told me the stories of her
wonderful mother all over again. I got to know my mother all over again. My mother was my best friend again, to have around to do
things with. These
were four precious years. And
one day she paid me the best compliment I have ever received
from anyone in my entire life.
One day she told me, “I haven’t been this happy since
my mother was alive.” With
that one statement I felt that I had succeeded in life.
It gave me such great joy, and we went through the rest
of our days, hand in hand.
My love for her grew by leaps and bounds.
But little by little, the days got a little harder, a little
sadder. First she
needed me to hold her hand while walking, then she needed a
cane, then a walker, and then we got a wheelchair.
Her lungs and heart deteriorated slowly and she became
dependent on oxygen for her very life.
I became her caregiver.
I cared for her, took her to the doctor, gave her the
medicine she needed, watched old Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire
movies with her and when she was afraid at night I would sit by
her side until she fell asleep.
I watched in love and sorrow, as I saw the
mother-daughter roles change to me being the mother and my
mother being my baby.
In March of this year my mother became very ill.
I called an ambulance to take her to the hospital.
She had pneumonia. After being in the hospital a couple of days, she started
bleeding internally. She
was too weak for surgery. The
doctor said he would try to replace the blood in the hopes that
she would stop bleeding. This
was a long shot, just a mere hope.
Each day went by, one by one, interminable days.
The doctor said that he would give it one more day and
would have to stop giving her blood.
I was ready for the end.
Then the most unbelievable thing happened!
She stopped bleeding!
I coaxed her to eat with hopes of coming home soon and
she fell for the bait. She
ate, after a month she got strong enough to be transferred to a
nursing home facility. I
thought that would be her home forever.
I went to see her everyday and we made friends with the
people there. I met
Mr. Clyde who was in the room across the way.
And I would tease them both, trying to hook them up
together. When I
would wheel mom to lunch I would call, “Mr. Clyde! Come on, there’s an empty seat at our table!”
I would embarrass her so and we had such fun with
everyone. Then
after 22 days, my dream came true, an unbelievable dream.
My mom could come home.
What a happy day! As
we drove to the house and she sat at the table.
I got the camera and said, “Mom let me take your
picture.” She
looked up with her pale face so seriously and I said, “No Mom!
You’ve got to smile!”
And I posed her. I put her elbow on the table with her chin resting in her
hand and I told her how to smile.
And she did. It is such a beautiful picture.
You can see the happiness in her eyes.
You see the twinkle.
My mom was put on hospice and nurses came in to take care
of her. I cared for
her in those last days, still spending time with her, still
having fun. Now I
was building sweet memories, because I knew my time was not long
with her.
On July 29, 2005, our paths were to change again.
That would be the day that, again, my mother would go to
live a new life, and I would start a new path.
We, once again, would no longer be a pair.
My precious mother passed away.
It was 10:15 in the morning.
A massive heart attack took her.
As I watched those final moments knowing that my mother
was leaving me so quickly.
I held her and told her how much I loved her.
And then she was gone. I had watched my angel leave my
side never to return again. My
mother was a very beautiful woman and even in death she retained
her beauty. I
closed her eyes, kissed her, and covered her up to her neck and
just sat next to her caressing her face.
I caressed her face as the coroner arrived, and I
caressed her face until the memorial home came to get her.
As the SUV went down the road, I watched until it went
out of sight. You see, because my mother was leaving for a very long trip
and I would not see her in a long, long time.
Now, I tell my daughter about my mother, those cherished times,
about when I was a little girl and how I cherished my mother,
and I now call her my angel.
Now I tell everybody about my mother, my
angel, the most beautiful, feminine, elegant, poised lady in the
entire world that ever lived.
However, something very strange happens now and then.
Something good or something bad happens, and I want to
pick up the phone and call her and say, “Mom, guess what?”
But I can’t this time.
Because I don’t know the phone number.
So I treasure the time we had and our sweet memories knowing
that once again we are separated.
She is living her life and I am living mine until our
paths cross again.
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'Written
With Love in My Heart'
By
Luella
May©2005
photograph by kind permission
of Luella May©2005 |
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Love
Songs Melody midi
Unchained Melody
Are The Stars Out Tonight
I Will Always Love You
from
Luella May
©2005
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