Seven months

Every week she walks to the front, taking the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation in her hand. She holds on to the chairs for support. She smiles as one who knows that all is well. She is frail. She is beautiful. And every week I see her and my heart lurches and the tears fall. She reminds me so much of my mother.



My children laugh at me when I tell them this. Because, you see, she wears socks with her Birkenstocks. There are no well-ironed creases in her shirts. She is short.  My mother would have stayed home from church if Birkenstocks were her only footwear option.






But the way she walks, holding on to those chairs, the way her smile exudes wisdom and trust, these are reminders of the mother I miss. And watching her daughter's hand resting on her shoulder makes my hand burn with longing.

I miss you, Mama.

 

Thinking of my dear mother on this first Mother's Day without her. Missing her laughter, her wisdom, her love.  Grateful for the years we had.

A mom reads you like a book, and wherever she goes, people read you like a glowing book review.  

~Robert Brault~

It is hard to remember when I was not a mother.  It has been almost twenty-one years, a lifetime of memories and learning.  Being a mother is the most sanctifying, gratifying work I have ever done.  

  I am unbelievably blessed by these goofballs.

Happy Mother's Day!

 

It has been two months already

The pot is on the stove, tomatoes and beans and spices and vegetables and wine all bubbling together for an early dinner. And mom's pantry shelves are bare now, the last of her stores providing for us still.

 

Around every corner, I am reminded. In a spray of White Linen each morning, in the lemon oil for polishing dark wood, in the stacks of books and piles of paperwork. In the work, in the beautiful things, in a meal provided at the end of a lean month.

Her love calls to me still.

Thanks, Mama.

From her reading stacks to mine

The bookshelves at Mom's are packed with history books, biographies, cookbooks, mysteries and more mysteries, the best kind of books on the Christian life, and much more.

These are the first five choices for my bedside pile.

Thanks for continuing to inspire me, Mama.

*click on the images to see books at amazon.com

The blossoms are all gone

An armload of freesias graced the altar area at my mother's service.

Three weeks ago they were white and purple and fragrant.

Grief was fresh and new, a gaping wound.  Life was a swirl of responsibilities and the chance to remember.



The bouquet came here and  found a home on the kitchen island.  Every day I would come down, pluck the wilted blossoms, and enjoy the lingering fragrance of the few remaining flowers.

There are no blossoms left.

It hits in unexpected places

 

I had my annual physical yesterday, and I knew it was going to be very difficult.  You see, my doctor was also my mom's doctor.  Mom and I had logged serious hours in that waiting room, in those exam rooms, in the halls.  And this time I would be alone.  I wrote to my daughter in Oregon, "Pray, please?!" and dragged myself out the door and into the car.

Coming up the hill and seeing the hospital on the right didn't do me in.  Walking in the door, filling out the forms, hearing Kristin's sweet voice calling my name...it all went pretty well.


And then she put the pulse oximeter on my finger.  The very same one that I had seen on my mother's finger dozens of times.  And I came very close to sobbing.  I held it in until she left me in the exam room, and then I completely let go.  I wept and wept and wept some more.  I didn't want to be in that room alone, where Mom and I had giggled and cried and held hands and checked our watches in impatience and compared magazine articles.  But there I was.  Alone.


Fortunately the doctor was late, I was able to cry as long as I needed to, and we had a great appointment.  He wanted to talk about Mom, how much he appreciated her attitude.  She made a difference in his life, because often patients are not so gracious toward the doctor who gives them bad news or asks them to make changes they would rather not make.  And certainly not many of them were able to laugh in the face of life-ending adversity like Mom was.  She was a gem.

As I left, I walked down halls that echoed with her laughter; I felt sad and lost and like I might feel this way for the rest of my life.

I know it's not true, but yesterday it sure did feel like it.

Memorial words

My friend Laura asked me to post the words I spoke at Mom's memorial service.  Here you go, Laur.  Thanks for everything.





Thank you for being here today.

When we moved Mom in 2003, she thought she had left her meaningful life behind. Friends, church, community in the Bay Area...it was all she had known for over forty years. Starting over is hard at any age, but at 76? Neither of us could imagine.

But then she came to Faith Church. When we went to look at the two Episcopal churches near our house, Mom decided to come to Faith for one reason: she thought she might not be able to climb the steps outside the church in Placerville for much longer. How many times have I thanked God for those steps? Many!




And so we came to Cameron Park. The first thing she noticed was the lack of kneelers and then the screens on the wall; these were a stretch for a conservative Episcopalian woman. But you loved her. You welcomed her. You drove her to church, included her in your fellowship, shared books with her, visited her when she was sick. And now we are here, in her church HOME, for a memorial service with friends and clergy whom she really knew and loved. I cannot thank you enough.

And to our friends who are here: you've been a rock for us. Thanks for your prayers and for letting us lean on you. It is good to know we are not alone.

And now to brag on my Mama a bit. She was an independent, courageous, hilarious and articulate woman.

She loved with a fierce love. It was a beautiful thing to be loved by my mother; I am so glad I could be her daughter.

What else did Mom love?

She loved books:

Through all my growing up years, I remember seeing my beautiful mother curled up with a mystery as we went to bed. When we lived in Los Altos, she eventually switched over to the Mountain View library; she had read all the mysteries in the Los Altos one.

I remember her reading Charlotte's Web aloud to us when we were little.

I remember Mom bringing me new books when I was sick. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, All Things Bright and Beautiful, 84 Charing Cross Road.

She introduced me to C.S. Lewis. What a gift. And just this year I felt a thrill when I was able to introduce HER to Wendell Berry.

We joked about writing a book together, using the typical El Dorado County property surveying dispute we were having in our neighborhood. We named it The Property Line, but she had yet to decide if she would be the Jane Marple detective, or if she was to be the murderer...it would be a "who dunit" you wouldn't guess until the very last page.

We have made a lot of library trips in the last eight years. With her large bag of books, making her way to the check-out line, one of the grandchildren would surreptitiously grab her bag. And those bags were heavy! She never stopped reading, never stopped learning. When she died, Mornings on Horseback (a biography of Teddy Roosevelt) was on her table, open to the last page she had read.

Mom also loved ordinary beauty:

Things carved out of wood, pottery bowls of all different shapes and sizes and colors, Shakespeare (especially Hamlet, which she saw many times during my childhood, always in search of the actor who would play Hamlet perfectly), watercolor paintings, cut flowers, the faces of her grandchildren, blues music, the clean beauty of a perfectly pressed shirt, the glow of well-polished wood, skies like today's sky. It didn't need to cost money...it was the simple things she enjoyed.

And finally, Mom loved to laugh, and what a laugh she had.

This is particularly difficult for me to talk about. For you see, Mom leaves behind her books, she passed on her love of beauty to us, but that laugh...how can that laugh really be gone from this world? It doesn't seem possible. It was such a glorious song, from a woman who would happily tell you she couldn't sing a note on key.

The laughter was song enough, Mama.

I would like to close by reading a Shakespearean sonnet. I would guess it was written between lovers, but it always reminds me of Mom. It speaks of unconditional love, something she was known for.

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

This Wednesday

A service in memory of

Jean Helen Collopy Gault

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

2:00 p.m.

Faith Episcopal Church

2200 Country Club Drive

Cameron Park, California 95682

Give rest, O Christ, to your servant with your saints,

where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing,

but life everlasting.

~Book of Common Prayer~

Rest in peace, Mama

Jean Helen Collopy Gault

1-15-27 to 1-29-11

Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world;

In the Name of God the Father Almighty who created you;

In the Name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you;

In the Name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you.

May your rest be this day in peace,

and your dwelling place in the Paradise of God.

 

 

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Jean.  Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming.  Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.  Amen.

Glimpses of beauty

Sometimes my random thoughts take me right where I need to be. 
 
Donna posted this today, a quote from a favorite book:
 
“The light spread out and where it touched the Darkness the Darkness disappeared. The light spread until the patch of Dark Thing had vanished, and there was only a gentle shining, and through the shining came the stars, clear and pure.”


—A Wrinkle in Time


which reminded me of this quote from Return of the King:

"The land seemed full of creaking and cracking and sly noises, but there was no sound of voice or of foot. Far above the Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."


which I found on my own blog here.  And there I read my own words, coming back to minister to my heart this morning:

My friends, may you know that these days of shadow are only fleeting. May you have a glimpse of the beauty that is far beyond the reach of any shadow, and may you know the Bright Morning Star, and His never-ending love for you, amidst the dreary and the devastating.

Yes.

Looking for glimpses of beauty today.  I am sure they are there.

Gifts of grace on a hard day

~ I woke with a start this morning, realizing that Mom had not been awake in the night.  That was unexpected!  Sleep was something I figured I would have to do without for a while.
 
~  The hospice nurse came to get us oriented to all they will do and all we will do.  As the car pulled in the driveway I realized it was the sister of a dear friend, and her kind and calm manner made all of us relax.
 
~  I picked up a message on the phone this afternoon, and it was Mom's friend Rosemary.  She said she was bringing food (note that she did not ask...that works for me.)  She brought not only food but good cheer and words of love for Mom.  She also reminded me that Mom's church will provide meals and support for us.  Wow.  It's good to be in the Body of Christ.
 
 
Gifts of grace on a hard day.
 
Thank You.

Soundtrack for today

I am still learning about my mother. When I asked what she wanted to listen to today, she wanted to hear a Barbra Streisand duet CD.

Okay.

Enter iTunes and we have Barbra and Frank Sinatra and Neil Diamond and more keeping us company at Mom's.




Duets


Music I will always remember.

From Sunday at 11:45 p.m.


My bookmark is once again a napkin from the hospital cafe, and Mom is sleeping in the ICU tonight. The afternoon was spent in the ER, and the news from an ultrasound was not good. Her cancer has spread. Mom's desire is for comfort, not aggressive treatment, and tomorrow we will figure out exactly what that means.

For now I sit in a dark kitchen, no one else awake in the house. All I can do is breathe in and out, believing that courage and strength will come in the morning.

Lord have mercy.



This morning

At that point on Sunday night the phone rang. The hospital wanted me to know that my mom's heart was struggling, and they suggested I come in. It was a long night, but she pulled through. Yesterday she had a procedure that turned out to be "an aggressive measure"...it always has its risks, but with her heart being so weak, they thought it was a 75% chance that she would not survive anesthesia. She survived.

But the cancer has spread and has caused them to not be able to open up the duct fully. Our hope yesterday was to clear enough infection to bring her home with comfort, and for my sister's son to be able to see her.   I will find out soon if that is the case.

When Mom said yes to the procedure that the anesthesiologist thought would result in death, she looked at me (scared and showing it) and said:  Jesus is Lord.  Now, this is not normal Mom verbage.  She has deep faith, and she keeps her deep faith pretty deep most of the time.  But I am certain that my mother was not thinking of her own mortality at that moment, but about ME and how that mortality would effect me.  She wanted me to remember that He is Lord over my life and all that happens to me.  What my mother has taught me about loving was beautifully exhibited at that moment of life and death:  It is not about me.  It is not about circumstances.  It is not about statistics.  It is about loving others.

We're hoping for a few more weeks of loving each other, and we sure would appreciate your prayers.

Birthday flowers

I am not a fan of texting. At all.

But when I am preparing to watch my son debate...
far away in Irvine...
and it is my mother's birthday...
and I receive a text from both my husband and oldest son asking if Mom likes flowers...
and what colors?

Well, texting at that moment was perfect.

Thanks, guys. The flowers are perfect, too.

And then she turned 84

As many of you know, in June of 2009 my mother was diagnosed with bile duct cancer and given four to six months to live.

This last weekend she turned eighty-four.

Can I say that again? This last weekend she turned EIGHTY-FOUR!

Love you, Mama, and give thanks for each day of life we share together.

More reasons I love my mother: a recent list

1) We were having a discussion about the wonders of Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers, and she recited the last line. By memory. With feeling.

"and no hand plucked his velvet sleeve."

2) When writing a note to a friend, she used the word insouciant. I only know this because it became quite the stir at church, causing everyone to run for their dictionaries. I guess insouciant isn't a very common word, but it is marvelous.

insouciance: lighthearted unconcern: nonchalance

3) Roasted beets with orange peel were her idea. Yumola.

4) She became a Wendell Berry fan last month. She loved that Nathan Coulter begins with one word: Dark. I love that she loves that.

Just the facts

Tuesday I realized I felt great. Better than I had in months. Surgery healing is going oh-so-well. Laproscope may be my new favorite word.

Thursday we called 911 because my mother was having trouble breathing.

Friday I fell asleep at 8:30 p.m.

Weekend: Ducks win. Giants win. (We will pretend the 49ers had a bye. Or don't exist.) Naps were also featured in the weekend entertainment.

Monday Mom came home again.

And life goes on.

So keep'em coming these lines on the road
And keep me responsible be it a light or heavy load
And keep me guessing with these blessings in disguise
And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes.
~Caedmon's Call~

An evening with Mom

Just another snapshot of Mom's presence in our home. She joined us last night for In n' Out; it was a blazing night and the oven simply did not need to be turned on. She told hilarious stories of her working days. Oh, I love Mom's stories.

The Mom Update

For those who have been so kind as to care about my mother, it seems that I am way overdue on an update on how she is doing.

She is FINE. Can you believe it? Excuse me while I say it a few more times...She is FINE. She Is FINE.

Oh, do I like how that sounds.

She has taken Dial-A-Ride again. She has been to Brennan's basketball games. She likes to monitor the watering in the front yard. She is hoping to get a few sewing projects done. She is, once again, getting all her ironing done. (If there is one thing I have learned about my mother in the last year it is that her ironing is a priority. Once again I have to ask the question: where did I come from?)

Last June I looked ahead and tried to prepare myself for the dark, only to be met by glorious light; it is hard to catch my breath with all the relief and joy and gratitude that is pouring forth.

There will come a day when we need to learn to be grateful for difficult days; for today, though, we rejoice in FINE.

Thanks for caring and for your prayers. Don't stop!