Saying Goodbye
So how does a mother say goodbye to her children? How do I communicate my love, my joy and the fact that I really do always want to be there to my children? I have been thinking about this all week, about how to start.
I have started boxes. The girls call them the 'depressing boxes' and they contain letters, photographs, poems, cards, pictures and drawings that they have made through the years. I am a hoarder: I can't throw anything away at all. What a blessing all that clutter is! I haven't been able to approach the letter writing though. That all seems unnecessary at the moment although when I am with them, I find that I am mentally squirrelling memories away ready to draw out of my pocket for my daughters.
I can tell the news is really sinking into my psyche now for I no longer cry when I think of myself going and my children being left alone. I am, of course, still scared, still terrified of their future without a mother, a future without me but I can also look forward and start finding those arms of others who will comfort them when they need a hug, whose ears will soak up stress, whose fingers will wipe away tears.
Mortality is frightening and, to be honest, I have always been afraid of dying and whatever death holds. As a teenager, I used to wake up crying, feeling the coffin around my body and imagining what wood would feel like against my skin. I would terrify myself so much I had to sleep with the light on, or even just read, late into the night rather than face the fear.
So this tussle with death is actually almost a good thing. It is forcing me to face my deepest darkest fear of all, and with that the terror of not seeing my children grow up. Beside that fear, death itself has become just a niggle, a bit of stress around the edges.
Strange how once faced with a terminal diagnosis, people are ready to discuss issues like death and mortality which normally they shy away from as one of the ultimate taboos. I can freely express my fears and my worries to those around me and they take it all, they listen and they reply in freedom. For that, I thank you all. It helps me so much to talk about it, to prepare for my passing and to make sure that the three most important people in my life will be well loved, supported and cared for.
Of course, that is only once I am gone and this lady ain't going nowhere for quite a while...
Minerva
30 comments:
We hope you're going to be around for many years, Minerva. I love the idea of the boxes, and the letters you will write your girls will be invaluable to them, both before and after you've gone. I think the fact that you save their things will communicate to them how much they mean to you.
Before I go, I am planning to make videos for each of my children and grandchildren, explaining to them what they have meant to me and how much I love them. Maybe you could do that too?
One thing you have given all of us here my friend is chance to talk about death. It remains taboo I think because in our 'post Christian' world we have little conceptual framework to explore it. If we're not religous - and Western society mostly isn't - then what can be said about it?
Except that it's certain. That it will happen to us all, that everything in our lives - the good, the bad, the stuff in between, is temporary. Armed with that knowledge, I guess we can act differently, focus on what we really wish to be here for, or who. And maybe those of us who have seen the prospect of death are empowered to make choices about themselves and their future that some of the rest of us don't recognise?
Does that mean the thought of the possibility of death brings a kind of freedom too? Freedom from the unimportant, freedom to give attention to what actually matters?
Min--
You don't know what I would give for a letter, or a video, or to have just had a 'Val... I am proud of you because ____," talk before she died--even losing her as an adult. Your girls will be so blessed by anything you do. I admire you... And come to think of it, maybe I need to start doing some things for my girls too, huh?
Such honesty, Minerva...it's startling and refreshing. Perhaps you prepare all of us in some ways. Thank you always for sharing all of your thoughts, no matter what the content.
Dear Minerva...We have to admit it. We are all afraid of death. It is a natural thing to be afraid. I think that is why the Lord put Psalm 23 into the Bible.
When we are walking through the shadow of death He has promised those dear ones that beleive in Him that he will be with them, comfort them and hold them by His hands...those very hands that were pierced with nails and hung on a tree for our sins!
He loves us so much Minerva!
I think it is a good idea that you are making boxes for the children. I would call them treasrue chests!
God bless you dear friend...Love Terry
I think it is so amazing how motherhood changes us. Our deepest darkest fear, the very thing that used to terrify us reletlessly, pales in comparison to the thought of leaving our children. However, when you really think on it, this is actual proof that whatever our fear is, it only has as much control as we give it. You really make me think Minerva---and examine myself.
Angie Davis
So well written, M. I always look forward to reading your words, they are profound without being unreal. Thanks goes to you, for the sharing you do.
your maternal musings are a wonderful addition to my breakfast of rye toast and strong coffee. I will come back to read again, as the concrete hardens in the forms. Yesterday was a whirlwind, today is a bit more calm
To live in the hearts of those you love is not to die.
I am a cancer survivor myself so I can appreciate your fears and I admire the way you are facing this head on. The memory boxes are a beautiful idea - I have one from my best friend who died of malignant melanoma and it brings me great comfort.
Don't lose sight of your todays in facing up to your tomorrows. None of us know how long we will live, the only certainty anyof us have is that we must all eventually die.
Enjoy each and every moment with your family, don't sweat the small stuff - and always, always retain hope.
Very best wishes, Jan
http://j9marshall.wordpress.com/
Writing to your girls, leaving videos etc will be a precious way of passing on your thoughts to your girls.
We want you around for a long time, Minerva, but your thoughts and preparations are the right thing to do.
Dear Minerva-I usually just lurk, but I want you to know *I CARE* and appreciate your honesty. I truly do care and my heart aches when I read of your fearful and hurting heart. -blessings-heather
"this lady ain't going nowhere for quite a while..."
bravo, bravo.....
you are going to be walking by our side for many years to come.
Don't force the letters, they'll come. One day or one night you will be inspired and the letters will flow with love and promise.
cq
Oh that Craziequeen
What a delight she is!!!
I always enjoy her comments to you Minerva!
Talk about making a dull day bright!!....Love Terry
Minerva - I have just found your site and I find your honesty amazing. I was dx'd in February of this year at the age of 38, and I can relate to your feelings of despair. It is hard to look at the half full glass sometimes, especially with all the uncertainty cancer brings. ***hugs*** Elizabeth
http://foto-monologue.blogspot.com
I lost my Dad's dad when he was 66; I was 9. My Dad was diagnosed and died of pancreatic cancer in 9 months when he was 56. I rather felt I was on borrowed time from 46 on...
This doesn't count the other close relatives that all died too young, more from cancer than not.
I signed my living will after watching my Mom refuse to let them unhook anything from my Dad; the doctors would beg my sister and I to talk to her, and she would steadfastly refuse as it was her time "center stage".
I also made my wishes known as far as the funeral arrangements go; whether or not they are followed (cremation and no stone or plot; my ashes spread along one of my favorite stretches of twisty Vermont 2-lane) we'll see...lol!
I try to make a point of telling my sons and their wives and my grandkids each how proud I am of them, and how much I love them, every chance I get because those are words I never heard from my Dad. Having others tell me he said them just isn't the same...
Beyond all that; you with your beautiful soul and heart will be around long after I am dust!
alan
Though they cal them depressing boxes they will one day treasure the memories contained within as well as the knowledge that you cared so much for them that you took a portion of your finite days remaining and set them aside to create these for them.
Personally I hope you get to work on them for years and years, but however it plays out I know you will make the most of the time left. Cancer has a strange and terrifying way of clarifying that which we perceive and value.
Take care Minerva and enjoy yourself.
Death and dying are taboo. It's terrifying. Thank you for allowing us all to think about it and talk about it.
I'm counting on you to be around a long, long time. Take care.
I just popped in to see you, honey...
I'll be back later this week, just tos ee if you need anything :-)
cq
As usual, jean-luc-picard and I are on the same page Minerva. If it is selfish for us to want you around for a long time, then I am guilty of being selfish. Your ability to speak about "taboos" is refreshing and always gives my life new perspectives. We all want the best for you...always! :)
Saying hello to you dearest Minerva aand hoping that everything is going well for you...love Terry
Hi Minerva. Your words promote thoughts and feelings about important things and that is truly how we touch each other and, I believe, is how we attain a kind of immortality. My cancer has just come back after 5 years. The first time, it took me over 4 years to come to grips with my mortality and what it means to be alive. This time, while I don't fear death, I feel a greater sense of urgency to make the most of my time here and to make the biggest contribution I can to the world.
I have chosen to reach out emotionally now through my website (talkingaboutcancer.com) which I hope will help others. And when I'm gone, my children (like yours) will carry with them the essence of who I am, instilled in them through my love for them. That is worth everything.
It's Saturday morning and I am once again thinking of you so I just sent you a very special e-mail that comes from the deepest part of my heart.
Aloha Minerva.. I came across your blog today and I just want to say thank you for your realness and your honesty but most of all your strength..Tha boxes are a beautiful idea and I know one day they will be a treaured gift to your children one day. Yet I know the most treasured ones will be in their hearts where they will carry you forever and wherever they go..Just know that The Lord had a time for us to be born, and only he knows when it will time for us all to go home. Blessings Joy
you article really inspiring and touching..
I grew up without my mom always by my side
it is hard...but i too understands my mother situation..
your girls are blessed
Godd morning Minerva..
Actually it is noon hour your time there in London so you will be on your lunch break at school, probably surrounded by your adoring students!
But here I am just prying my eyes awake and thinking seriously of going back to bed!
Just want to tell you that I am thinking of you all the time and sending up prayers to God that all will be well with you.
Take care and I must say that we all miss hearing your sweet voice.
Blessings to your children who are your teasures ...love Terry
Minerva... the fact that you are putting deep thought into how to properly leave your children is so much more than some people do.
When my son's dad had terminal cancer he remained in deep denial until 3 days before he died. Therefore, he kept telling my then-8-year-old that he would be meeting my son's teacher "next month", etc.
I was trying to prepare my son for months but that was undermined by his dad's resolve that he was being cured by laitrille and other alternative treatments.
He spent a whole month in Tijuana, Mexico getting these treatments ($20,000) when I wished he had spent that month with our son.
While there, he made videotapes of himself talking about his treatments, talking about all the wonderful people he was meeting, etc. He never made a tape with a message to Lucas.
When he finally did say goodbye, again 3 days before his death, my little boy was so stunned...so shocked... to this day (he's 12 now) he does not remember that conversation. I'm sure it's because he was so unprepared that he heard nothing.
What I'm trying to say is that you are a wonderful, wonderful mother and that is evident because of how much you want to do this "the right way". Of course there is no right way, but at least it is important to you to try.
My heart aches for you...
xox
pg
Minerva, hang in there. My mother should already have succumbed to the tumor in her lung, but she's still here, and still fighting it. Be here to be around when the boxes get opened.
As one of my earliest blog "friends," I wish you and yours much health, peace, and happiness.
In the last fortnight, I have learnt that my cousin and my dad have both been diagnosed with cancer, my cousin has bladder cancer which has already mestasised, and my dad is in early stages of colorectal cancer.
They have both had surgery, and the outlook is suddenly bleak for the family.
I love that I have known my dad and that my cousin, although not close to me, is a wonderful mom, wife and person and is much loved by the Canadian branch of the family.
I love that I have 'met' you.
I love that you, Minerva, are in my life.
Life is never over, love never dies.
cq
I agree with you that persons with chronic illness freely talk about death and those around them too. Your blog is helpful to all of us. May other persons suffering from cancer or any illness read your thoughts through this blog.
Your girls are blessed by your depth.
thanks a lot.
My sister-in-law died of melanoma a while back. Her husband kept the fact that she was dying from her until near the end and no one else really knew because it the family's first bout with cancer. Her kids didn't really get a chance to say goodbye until it was in here brain and she was pretty out of it.
My wife (her sister) did, however, spend some time with her when she still had her faculties and persuaded her to write a letter to her kids, so at least she had that.
It's so important to plan for these things. My kids are older and they are aware of my cancer and what it could mean. They don't always talk about it, but they know the score. Meanwhile, we are living our lives well.
Doug
(see my blog at http://talkingaboutcancer.com)
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