Mom’s Final Days – Thoughts from November 20, 2013

(Future note: This was written about my mom’s final days. Her last day alive was on November 20, 2013, so that is the date of this Thoughts paper. Despite the sad subject, there were amusing and surreal happenings going on.)

My mom had multiple sclerosis for many years. Near the end of her life, she was in an assisted living residence and permanently in a wheelchair. In her final days, she was in the hospital and eventually back to the assisted living residence under hospice care. The other residents gave their condolences for my mom. They said they would pray for her. I really didn’t want them to pray for her, but I knew they just meant they were sorry for what was happening and would miss her. Those were easy enough things to deal with. I would just smile and say thank you to them. I am an atheist but my mom was not.

On my mom’s final day alive, she was in her hospice bed sleeping and I was in a chair by the side of the bed. A knock came on the door and some people walked immediately in because they knew my mom would not answer if she was in her room alone. Two of the people were in wheelchairs (a man and woman) and one woman was standing. They said they wanted to pray for my mom. I just said, “OK,” because what else was I going to say? It is always one of the awkward moments I get to deal with as an atheist when others pray. I never know what to do or where to look. They said a prayer and talked to my mom for a few moments. The woman in the wheelchair asked me if I accepted Jesus into my life. It was hard to hear her because she could not speak clearly. I could actually make out the words she was asking me. Asking what she said was mainly to delay my answer and try to think of something to say. I had never been asked that question before. My parents were religious, but they didn’t really refer to Jesus much. Personally, I have always found the usual images of Jesus on a cross to be creepy. It is a man hung on a piece of wood by nails in his hands. While all this is going on in my head, what came out of my mouth was, “No.” There was an awkward pause and the standing woman said something about praying for my mom, anyway. They gave my mom and I further condolences and left the room. They did not say I was going to hell, so I considered myself lucky.

A while later, my sister came to the room. I told her about what had happened. We discussed what our mom’s religious beliefs were. We both knew my parents practiced Religious Science because we went to that church as kids. My sister was not particularly religious and I think by now you know my story. We heard another knock on the door and it was the young pastor for the assisted living residence. He had a guitar with him. Can you hear the excitement in my typing? He asked if we would mind if he played some songs for my mom. My sister said our mom liked music and it would be good for her. I didn’t know if my mom would have liked it, but it would have to be better than the awkward conversation I had earlier. He played the guitar and sung about God’s love that is always with us. I honestly don’t remember what else was in the song. He would pause in between songs and say some inspirational words while resting his chin on the guitar. It was truly a performance I know kills at his church. I think all the loud noises just disturbed my mom. She was fairly far gone at that point, but I think whatever was left in her was not enjoying it. She would have much preferred Barry Manilow to serenade her in her final moments. He was her favorite musician (second only to me playing piano for her). The pastor blessed us all and left the room. My sister and I just looked at each other and laughed at the absurdity of it all. I thanked her for being there so I didn’t have to experience more awkwardness alone.

All the people that prayed for my mom had no bad feelings or intentions toward my mom, my sister, or me. They were so used to dealing with people who thought as they did. They had the same religion or just lied when asked if they accepted Jesus into their lives. I understand they were merely acting as their religious indoctrinations taught them. I am sure they know what empathy for others is, but they have no experience with it outside how their religion tells them to be empathetic. They empathize with me for being an atheist because they think I have no way of dealing with my mom’s death. Without someone telling you your loved one is in a better place, how are you supposed to deal with the sadness and other emotions that come with losing a loved one? My mom is only in a better place in that she is better off not suffering as she did near the end of her life. My mom outlived her life expectancy by many years and I thank science for that.

Your life story doesn’t end at your death.

Future note: Reading this almost ten years after my mom passed away, I can see why some people would think it wasn’t a good tribute to her. It does not read like an obituary because it is not. It is my Thoughts paper and my thoughts. In a way, I feel sorry for people who have to cling to religious teachings to deal with death. I don’t find death tragic or scary. It is just a part of life. Most deaths are not sudden. Your body shuts down little by little as you get older. When you can no longer communicate with the world, you are better off dead. People’s lifeless bodies only add bad memories to the good memories of them.

My memories didn’t go away when my mom was no longer there. There are many memories I hold on to about my mom. Whenever I see Sally Field, I think of her. Especially in younger pictures, my mom looked like her. Any cuteness I had as a child came from her. I was always told that I looked like her dad. He died when she was two years old. She was raised by my grandmother with her much older brother. When my dad came along, she couldn’t wait to get out of the house so she married him shortly after they met. My parents only had one real fight I can remember. It had something to do with a pan. My dad could be a hot head sometimes so it was probably his fault.

My mom encouraged everything I ever did. She seemed to enjoy my different creations, but the music I created seemed to be her favorite. If she didn’t care for something, she never told me about it. She focused on the positive. That is something I definitely learned from her. If you don’t like something, move on to something else. I found out that she was creative in her own right. She painted and helped me develop my sewing skills. I got an A+ in Home Economics in Junior High because I finished my apron first and helped others with theirs. Our crowning achievement was the Ewok costume we made for Halloween.

My sister and I had an estate sale at my parents’ house when Patti and I moved in. It was getting dark, and we were pulling things in for the night and a VW Bug drove up. Two young dudes saw the Ewok costume and had to have it. I think I sold it for ten dollars. One guy tried it on right on our lawn. He was too big for it just like I was, but he was most excited about the head with its hood with teddy bear ears sticking out. The felt around the eyes was coming off, but you still knew what it was. It was the masterful creation of my mom and me. I lost my mom just like I lost that costume, but my memories of her will never go away.