"You're so good. Such a good girl. And the boys...Stephanie, Sam, and Tom. You're all so good to me. I think I've learned my lessons - I really do," Foxy explained to me, as she was ready to drift off into a Percocet/Methadone induced sweet slumber, one night, a few weeks back.
I thought to myself, "Oh Mom, you are worthy and so deserving of all of that love, and so much more."
This is what I have learned about unconditional love in the past two years: it is primal, it emanates from the very core of your being, and allows you to give, share, and do things with no boundaries. More importantly, all while expecting absolutely nothing in return. This is how my Mama has loved me for the entirety of my life, and how sacred this journey has been, to allow us to return that love back to her. Unconditional love can heal all brokenness, and any unworthiness we may be harboring. Unconditional love builds a bridge, that no circumstances, not even Cancer, can destroy.
"I think we needed this time together," Foxy said, "I wish we could go back in time, and have a 'do-over'."
Here is the weird thing: I longed and thirsted for a deeper, more meaningful mother-daughter relationship for most of my young adult life. But things got in the way. We were both busy. I got married, and had way too many children. Mom and Dad retired in Santa Rosa. And I had accepted that maybe this is how it would be between Foxy and myself.
Then Mom got diagnosed. And as the Cancer took my Mom away from me - for the first time in my life, my Mom was really given to me...completely, vulnerably. If you have ever watched someone get sick, it's like watching a baby make their milestones of rolling over, sitting up, standing, and eventually taking their first steps - IN REVERSE ORDER.
In the beginning, we were hell bent on beating Cancer. During Chemo, Foxy and I would play Shang Hai Rummy, while eating all of the amazing snacks that were set out for Cancer patients. Foxy and I would take walks through her little neighborhood, and eventually we would shop for wigs online, preparing for the inevitable hair loss.
I will never forget the first time Mom ate a cannabis brownie, right before visiting the pantry ladies at St. Rose Church. I was thinking in my head, "We have 30 minutes before she's stoned. Let's make this visit short and sweet." The last thing I wanted was for Mom to feel paranoid in front of the church ladies. Well, 30 minutes came and went, and all of a sudden, I saw her sort of relax...like really relax. By the time we made it back to the car, she said, "Oh, I feel kind of squiggly." Mental note: eat pot brownies in the comfort of our own home to avoid "squiggliness" in public :)
The day would usually end with more cards, more talking smack while playing cards, and Mama listening to me spin the yarns of my life. All the while, she sat listening without judgement, but rather with acceptance and love. My Mom and I started to forge more than a mother-daughter relationship...I can say without hesitation that she is my friend. If I could divide my heart into 3 pieces: Tom has one, Foxy has one, and my girls have the last piece.
As the disease progressed, Foxy lost the ability to do certain things: instead of coming into a store with me, she was too exhausted, and would rest in the car. She literally would save ALL of her energy to attend Mass on Saturday night at St.Rose. She would start by getting up and taking a bath, and then taking a nap. She would do her hair, and then rest. The final step was getting dressed right before leaving. No sooner, were we back home from church, she was in her Pajama's again. Such a trooper. I have witnessed tumors growing on my Mom, that started as the size of an almond, and are now the size of a lemon. And I can't do anything to stop it. Nothing.
And yet, like most mixed bags, there are so many fond memories. Being sick, never stopped my Foxy Mom from shopping online for material (when she was still sewing), or purchasing yet more pajamas (which she has at least 15-20 different sets, many with tags still attached). I know exactly where my inheritance went!
Cancer has given me permission to love my Mom in a way, that I couldn't before...in a way, that I didn't have access to before. When my Dad would leave for baseball, I convinced her to apply an anti-stress bright green, gooey, facial mask. In the beginning, she would fight me on it. "Oh Michelle, that's okay. I don't really want to do that." But then, just as quickly, she would relent, participate, and end our "spa day" by saying, "Oh Gosh, that was fun."
And as time wore on, my Mom became confined to her hospital bed. I would turn on relaxing music, and massage her hands and feet...my Mom, who had done for others her entire life, now was able to sit back for a minute, and with full acceptance and grace, let us love her.
It is very common for someone who is close to crossing over, to get that "one last little burst of energy". During one of these "up" days, my brother, Paul, ever so carefully picked Mom up, and placed her gently into her wheelchair, and rolled her out front to sit in the glorious sunshine, and breathe the fresh air.
And it was during one of these days, as I sat next to her bed, our hands intertwined, she said, "I just want to make these days last. Going outside today was a dream come true."
These tender moments of nothingness and everything. These tiny moments that will forever be ingrained in my memory... they are small, and simple, and humble.
This morning, when I walked in, I observed that she was contemplating something, "What are you thinking about Mama?" Without hesitation, she answered, "Hopping out of this bed."
I played along, "Oh, that sounds great, Mama. Let's have an adventure." And the more suggestions I made, and the more she agreed, we imagined having a pretty terrific little day for ourselves."Should we start with a walk around your neighborhood? Now we're back, and you take a tub, and I'll take a shower. (Mind you, a bath is my Mom's FAVORITE indulgence, and she hasn't been able to do that for about 3 months now). And then maybe take a ride to Bodega Bay, we can walk along the cliffs at the ocean, being that it's 70 degrees and all. Should we stop by to see Uncle Jim and Auntie Nancy? Oh man, Auntie Nancy made her amazing popcorn, and Uncle Jim cooked up some of those delicious vegetables from his garden. Now it's 6:30 Mom, and Dad may be getting worried because we forgot to leave a note. We get home to Dad Barbequing out back, and we sit and watch the sun go down. Let's go inside now and sit by the fireplace and talk. That was a pretty awesome day, Mom. Hugh?"
"Yup," she said with a grin.
And so, as my Mama lies very close to ending her life here, but beginning her Eternal life, she continues to teach me.
Love with grace, be present, acceptance comes with prayer, and that we are all worthy of unconditional love. A love that can only come from each other, and Him.
I love my Mom so much. But I have this feeling, that she will come to me even after she has left this place. And that gives me comfort.
