Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #7 - One Week

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #7 - One Week


Hi, Mom, So, it's been over a week since you drew in your last breath. I might have acknowledged this fact yesterday, but I thought I should mention the Friday night visitation and the Memorial Service instead. I will spend at least a week and possibly more describing the visitation and service, though intermittently. We should spread out that good time!

I thought of you at 10:10 a.m. this morning. At some point, I will surely photograph a clock at 10:10 a.m. You picked such an interesting time to die. Two tens. Double ten. Readers, I don't have any interpretation for the time other than its duality and its memorability.

You also helped, Mom, by waiting until July Fourth to pass away. We will always be able to honor you and your passing each year on a day that is easy to remember.

My sister claimed that it's fitting that you died on the Fourth of July as it was a "non-holiday" in our family. In a sense this is true, we never threw a party. You did not have a box of Independence Day decorations. But we did things. We often went to Turkeyville on that day. Often, we went to the holiday parade in Richland, the one that prevented anyone from coming to get your body for over two hours. We often bought food from the annual chicken barbecue. And as my sister illustrated in her eulogy yesterday, you made a pie for the bake sale. Because your pies were so loved, yours was often pre-sold, someone bought it before you even brought it to the park. And we did watch a lot of fireworks in our lives. Occasionally we had our own, though mostly sparklers, on which we all burned our fingers.

I will think of you any time I use kitchen matches.

A week. Not a very long time and yet it felt like one of the longest weeks of my life. I put a lot of work into my eulogy, which I will share with you here, a bit at a time. But I know you already heard me. I know you like it, and you are proud of me.

A week. I am not sure how I will keep going, and yet I have no choice. Each minute opens up before the last. Time flows around me, and I am carried along on its current. And I have things to do: work and homework and dishes and laundry. The lawn needs mowing, and the dog needs walking. Liesel is stressed about her school work, and she needs my love and support as much as I need hers.

So, life goes on. It's such a cliché, and yet it's so true. We all must continue living and doing things that need doing, and we hope that it gets easier to do those things without you here. I feel you watching me. I hear your voice. I sense your presence. But it's not the same. I can't see you. I cannot give you a kiss, not today, and probably not tomorrow.

Though I feel you, I also feel empty.

I will always hold Richland dear to my heart as it's where I grew up. But already I have lost one reason to visit. You and Dad have always been my anchor, and I feel like I have lost half that anchor. And yet not, also. (I think there's going to be more content forthcoming on this anchor metaphor.)


You are here. (You readers can't see me, but I am pointing to my chest. Mom, I know you CAN see me, so you know what I mean.)


You are in my heart, and I am in yours.


You are all around me, and I am within your spirit, which holds me tight with love.


                                                                 ***

That's a pretty good ending, isn't it? Readers, pretend that is the ending as it's a nice final comment.

But I have a few maintenance type matters to work through.

Today's photo is from our trip to Britain in 1986. Obviously, that's us in front of Stonehenge. I like that you are holding my sister's hand. I like your smile.

Blog Housekeeping Stuff. This next bit will be back-posted to the first entry and the explanation of this blog feature. (Don't forget that there will be other blog posts on this blog, not just about you, MOM.)

At this writing, I see blog posts for Hey, Mom! grouping in three categories.

1. WORKING ON GRIEF: I need to work through my feelings, and I am going to do that by talking to you about my grief and the grieving process. The early stages of this will be the big stuff, such as the Memorial Service, making photo albums, and the anniversaries of your death, such as the first week, the first month, and so on. Some of this content may be as short as one line as I share one thing that made me think of you that day, Mom. The grieving process will have many facets.

2. MEMORIES: Though I am recounting memories as much for me as I am for you, Mom, I will recount memories from all the great times we shared in the last 53 and a half years. Readers may also enjoy this type of posting.

3. JUST STUFF: I miss talking to you in person and on the phone. So some of the posts or contents of posts will simply be things I would have shared if you were still here on this earth in physical form. For readers other than you, Mom, it won't all be "big" stuff. Some of it will be rather mundane. But then I know you loved my stories, Mom. You loved to hear about what was going on.

Bye, bye, for now.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 08 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1507.12 - 14:15

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #6 - Memorial Service pt.1

Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mother #6 - Memorial Service pt.1

Hi Mom. I went to your Memorial Service today and gave a nice speech. I guess it's called a eulogy, but that word still does not feel right.

This is going to be a short one because I have to take Satchel for a walk, and I am not up for creating a post of substantial length right now.

First, the top photo. Dad had set his wedding ring to encircle your wedding ring on the bathroom counter. Actually, the rings were sitting on a jewelry box with a colored glass cat design on top, but we thought that just the counter would look better as a background in the picture.

The other picture is some of my stuff. I wore the Pooh tie you gave me for the service. Honestly, I am not positive you gave me this tie, but I wanted to wear a Pooh tie, and this is better than the Uncle Scrooge or Grinch ties that I am positive you gave me. Dad wore his Angus Clan tartan tie, and I could have done that, too, but I wanted Pooh. This Pooh figure you gave me I sat next to me at the pulpit when I gave my talk. Also, you can see in the photo the program from the service and the bag of my portion of your ashes, those we did not inter. Though not pictured, I also wore one of the Pooh watches you gave me, the A.A. Milne one from Avon. It's really a woman's watch (maybe a girl's watch); I don't care.

I know you understand why I needed Pooh with me today.

I know you liked the service and what both Lori and I had to say. I can feel it; I can hear your voice.

I will write more tomorrow, though I may switch to a different subject before I switch back to the service. Recounting the service, including my talk, will get spread out over many posts to make it easier for and for everyone else.

Hey readers, thank you. Having your eyes on this writing project means a lot to me. Many of you shared your kind words with me already. I really appreciate it, and I know, you do, too, Mom.

I love you, Mom. I miss you.

Where you are, have someone give you a kiss for me.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 07 days ago

bloggery committed - 1507.11 - 19:49

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #5 - Invites

Mom and Dad at Turkeyville Christmas Show 1311.14

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #5 - Invites

Hi Mom, I invited some people to your visitation and Memorial Service. I hope you don't mind. Today is the day of your visitation (though not a "viewing" as you were cremated), tomorrow is the Memorial Service, and Sunday we inter your ashes.

So when I say "invited," I actually mean "sort of invited" because I wanted them all to know that I am not expecting them to attend and certainly not obligating them to do so. Then again, I don't know how to write those words about no expectations and no obligations without people thinking that there is still subtext that I am expecting and obligating, and I am just being nice.

So this is what I wrote to them reprinted here exactly as I sent it. Hope you like it.

NOTE TO FRIENDS: If you are a friend of mine and live out of the immediate area, I did not send this to you as I REALLY would never expect you to share in such a day with me.

Hello friends,

First, please forgive the mass email. This mode is easiest right now, and it will be the ONLY one I send (for those who are sensitive to such things).

Second, in an effort to include partners of those I love, I have done so. I know I do not know some of you well, but if I had your email, I know you well enough for you to get this message. For those who have partners whose emails I do not have, please feel free to share this message with them.

I am writing to you as you are dear friends to tell you personally that my mother died yesterday, July Fourth, at 10:10 a.m. Some of you have already seen this news on Facebook, and some have not.

I am not asking for anything; I don’t need anything. This is not my purpose for writing. Condolences, good vibes, love, virtual hugs, kind words, your own experiences or wisdoms, and all that are appreciated at this time. But what does one say? I get it. I know. You can say nothing if you wish. It’s okay. I just wanted you to know what has happened because I care about you and you care about me (well, I think you do...last time I checked that is...), and so there you have it.

My birthday 2012

I have been sitting vigil at my Mom's side all week, and we knew this end was coming soon since June 21st. It was neither a surprise nor unexpected. She went peacefully. We had fifteen great extra years since her initial coma and meningitis in 2000. I am hurting and grieving but not shut down or catatonic. Life goes on.

I am inviting you to our visitation and memorial service. However, I want to be very clear that you are not obligated to come. I really mean that. I am simply adding that information as it seems the natural thing to do. I am not expecting anything at all. Many of you did not know my mother, and some only knew met her briefly; but you know me, so if you wish to attend, I would love to see you. If you cannot or do not wish to, I appreciate that, too, and PLEASE believe me, I really do not want you to feel any obligation whatsoever. Really. Geez, I don’t know how to write this without subtext. Really. There’s no subtext. :-) Yeah, Tower sense of humor endures. Or at least the self-effacing neurosis.

However, if you do not attend either of these events, please consider doing me a favor. I know it’s dramatic. You should probably expect this from me. If you have a parent still with you, especially your mother, give her a call. Tell her you love her. Make sure you share all the things you want to share with her. Give her a kiss if she is close enough or do so next time you see her. Life is short. I know you know this and don’t need me to tell you. But you see where I am. So there it is. If both your parents are gone, find a loved one and share a hug or a sweet word. I am sure most of you (maybe all of you) do this anyway. I managed to say everything I wanted to say to my mother before she died. It feels good, and yet, I wish she was still here to hear it all again and again and again.

The visitation with family will be from 6 - 8 p.m. Friday July 10th.

The memorial service will be at 11 a.m. with a lunch to follow on Saturday July 11th.

Both events are at the Richland Presbyterian Church in the village square in Richland.

No need to do flowers or cards or any of that.


If you made it this far, thanks for reading and letting me share.

Peace and love
chris tower

Hey, look, Mom! Obituaries. (and I helped!)


Obit funeral home
 
Obit Battle Creek Enquirer

As you can see, I think there's going to be cake...

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 06 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1507.10 - 10:10 (same time you died)

Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mom #4 - Last Y&R watched together aired Tuesday 1506.30

Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mom #4 - Last Young and the Restless watched together aired Tuesday 1506.30

Hi Mom,

We often watched The Young and the Restless (Y&R) soap opera together. I am going to write about this subject in depth on my t-shirts blog, which I started here: T-shirt #366., so I will spare you a long treatise in this post. You know what this show meant to us; you know how it was our thing. We watched so many episodes of this show together, especially after the meningitis. Just like I played this show for you when you were in your coma 15 years ago, I played this show for you several times in your final week.

The last Young and the Restless  episode that we watched together (though you were kind of out of it as you were "actively dying") was the episode that aired originally Tuesday June 30th, 2015, though I think we watched it on your last full day here with us: Friday, July 3rd. We have a history of not watching the episodes when they air since recording became possible.

I watched it while working, as I often do, but I re-watched it yesterday because I didn't really remember what happened in it. At first, I did not even know I had seen it already as I had very little memory of it. Slowly, some scenes and key moments triggered my memories. I had watched it. I had watched it with you. But I was so distracted that watching it again was like watching it for the first time. Our last Y&R together. I should have saved it. But I didn't. I let it go into the universe of deleted shows. That's probably for the best.

I always talked to you about The Young and the Restless. I cannot promise to talk about the show all the time in this blog, but I will discuss it somewhat regularly because we always did, so often, over the last forty-two years that it has aired on CBS.

In recent years, I had to recap the show's episodes for you so you knew what had happened as you often slept through the program. You slept through the last one, too, though maybe you caught the familiar sound of Victor Newman's voice or the classic theme music as you drifted in and out. I like to think that these familiar sounds were comforting to you.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 05 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1507.09 - 9:31

Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mother #3 - "Don't be scared."

Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mother #3 - "Don't be scared."

Hi Mom,

I decided that this blog needed a picture of a puppy.

I could post another picture of you here, but I thought it was time for a puppy because puppies makes us all feel happy. Even though you were a cat person, Mom, I know you loved our dog, Satchel, featured here when she was only a wee pup. The shoe in this photo is meant to give you perspective on Satchel's size. The photo was taken 1209.04, only thirteen days after we brought her home.

So, these early posts (not sure how long "early" will last) will all be about your death, Mom. You know, the final days, and everything that happened. I will repeat many things I said to you then, but I may find some new things as well, which is what today's post is all about.

A modified version of the previous paragraph will now appear at the blog post found via this link: EXPLANATION POST FOR HEY, MOM!, which will grow as I evolve the purpose and meaning of this blog feature.

On your last full day, I told you that "it's all going to be okay." By this I did not mean that YOU were going to recover and live, we all knew that was not true (and I hope "we" includes you, but I am not sure if you knew). But I meant that WE would all be okay here without you. I also meant that you would be okay, too, but in the sense that with whatever comes after, you would be "okay." I was trying to reassure you, like you did with me when I was a child. I stroked your hair. I held your hand. I repeated "it's going to be okay" over and over.

But did I tell you not to be scared? I can't remember. Already so many of those moments are slipping away. But I should have told you. I should have told you not to be scared BECAUSE everything was going to be okay.

On the other hand, maybe I did not tell you not to be scared because you didn't look scared. I am not sure if you knew you were dying. There was a moment when you seemed to be telling us: "What the Hell are you all talking about me dying for? I am not going to die." But then there were other times when I could see by the look on your face that you knew, and you were not scared. I like to think that you were at peace, even as you fought to stay, and that when you finally had to leave, you did so without fear.

Maybe the right thing to say was not that YOU should not be scared, but that I should not be scared. Because though I knew your death was coming, and in many ways, I had been preparing for it for fifteen years, I was both resigned and terrified. I am still scared, facing this life without you, not knowing even how to live that way. But I am figuring it out, one breath at a time.

So, here's a beautiful tree. Whatever follows physical life here on this planet, I like to think you are part of things like this tree now. You are part of everything. Such a thought should make us both less scared.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 04 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1507.08 - 8:35

Tree in Hilo, Hawaii - pictured 1310.05

Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mother #2 - last breath

Photo from Sunday April 8, 2012 in Stirmax

Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mother #2 - Last Breath

Hi, Mom. I am going to be doing this blog for a year. I am firmly committed. I have decided. It's a fully baked idea. But talking to you? That's a lifetime thing.

I believe that you decided to let go and cross over when you knew Lori (my sister) and I were not going to be there at your side.

We had been with you all week and quite a lot the week before your last week, during what the Hospice folks called the "active dying" process.

On Saturday July Fourth (2015), I had plans to play Dungeons and Dragons with Tom. But I had canceled those plans to be with you as you were still breathing and showing no signs of slowing down. We were told to watch for gaps, periods during which you stopped breathing for 5-10 seconds. We were told the gaps would grow longer. We had not seen those signs yet.

I talked to Dad around 8:30 that morning about my plans to come out there. He said you were going strong and sort of discouraged me a bit. I called back around 9-something. Dad and I discussed that it did not look like "it" would be today. He encouraged me to take a break and have some fun. He told me that if things changed, he knew how to call me.

I guess from then on you started to show the signs pretty quickly. Dad called me at 10:06 a.m. to tell me you were going. I ran to the car and started driving much too fast for the number of police on the road on the holiday. By the time I called to ask about whether I should go around Richland and whether M43 would be closed for the parade, you were gone.

You took your last breath, a heavy sigh, at 10:10 a.m. just four minutes after Dad called me.

I missed it.

I really wanted to be there for that breath. I really wanted to be holding your hand. But maybe you didn't want that. Maybe you couldn't go with me and Lori sitting there next to you. You needed to do that without us, which is funny, you know, because you rarely wanted to do anything without us. Liesel told me you might be waiting for us to be gone. She's psychic like that. I wouldn't have thought of such a thing on my own.

For years, knowing your death would come sooner than any of us wanted, Dad would kiss you goodnight and tell you that he would see you in the morning. For him, this was always true. On Friday night, he told you that same thing again. Saturday morning, you were still here but not for much longer.

I am glad Dad was there, telling you he loves you, holding your hand, saying goodbye for the last time.

I will be okay with missing your last breath. In the end, it's not that breath that matters. What's really important are all the other breaths you drew while I was with you for the 53 years before that last one.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 03 days ago

- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1507.07 - 8:54

New feature: Hey, Mom! Talking to my mother #1 - the explanation

New feature: Hey, Mom! Talking to my mother #1  
- the explanation

Hi Mom,  You died two days ago, forever changing how I feel about Independence Day, though thinking about it as a kind of independence is interesting: this sentence added 2407.03.

So this entry, the first entry, has become a repository to explain what this blog is all about.
If you're a reader and have come here from a link I shared, then reading this entry will acquaint you with the purpose of this blog feature, and if you REALLY want to drill deeply, you can click on other links on this page for even more text from the 677 entries (at the time of writing this note) in this current blog feature.

The original text of the first post (which did not start with "Hi Mom"):

So, here's a new feature. Sense of Doubt was always meant to be without theme, to be potpourri. Lately, my content has been dominated by comic books. This trend changes now.

I am resuming daily transmission as I did when I wrote the t-shirts blog at 365 T-SHIRTS, and here's the latest blog entry there if interested: Coming Soon - T-shirt #366. Unlike the t-shirts blog, my new dailies will be relatively short.

I am going to use this blog to talk to you, Mom, every day because, as you were dying, I told you that I would think about you every day and that I would miss you every day. Yesterday (you died two days ago), I realized that I need to continue to talk to you, but I was wondering if I even need to do that out loud. And I will talk to you out loud. I also will talk to you in my mind. And some (not all) of what I share with you, I will share here with faithful readers, all two of them, who follow what I am doing with some regularity. By sharing here, I will also make official what I share with you, Mom, and what I dedicate to you.

I was thinking of good tributes to you, Mom. For instance, you liked shopping in the mall. In fact, for Mother's Day this year (that's 2015), I had given you a gift certificate to be redeemed to get me to take you to the mall and through as many stores as you wanted (all of them if you wanted). I put off letting you redeem it until after Liesel (my wife) and I returned from our trip to Scotland. But we had been home about a month when you died, and I had not yet managed to fulfill the promise made by the gift certificate. I have a little regret, but not paralyzing regret. I had taken you on a lot of shopping trips in the last fifteen years, so it was not going to be the first one, just the first one in a while.

Okay, back to the subject of this blog. I want to keep these posts short, often as short as a few lines or even a single line. I have so much to say, but I also realize that I have every day for the rest of my life to say everything. Though I am not sure if I will keep up with this "Hey Mom" feature for the rest of my life, I am committing to another entire year, as I did with the T-shirts Blog (and succeeded).

Added from #3: 1507.08: These early posts (not sure how long "early" will last) will all be about your death, Mom. You know, the final days, and everything that happened. I will repeat many things I said to you then, but I may find some new things as well.

I am sure I will focus a great deal of content on memories, but I also want to focus on what I usually tell you, Mom. The things that are happening. What's going on in my life now. My life will wait, though. Your death is the main subject for the near future, but I may mix in some other things from what's happening right now, I know you're interested.

Laura's wedding 1995 - this may be my favorite picture of Mom

Added from #7: 1507.12:

1. WORKING ON GRIEF: I need to work through my feelings, and I am going to do that by talking to you about my grief and the grieving process. The early stages of this will be the big stuff, such as the Memorial Service, making photo albums, and the anniversaries of your death, such as the first week, the first month, and so on. Some of this content may be as short as one line as I share one thing that made me think of you that day, Mom. I think the grieving process will have many facets.

2. MEMORIES: Though I am recounting memories as much for me as I am for you, Mom, I will recount memories from all the great times we shared in the last 53 and a half years.

3. JUST STUFF: I miss talking to you in person and on the phone. So some of the posts or contents of posts will simply be things I would have shared if you were still here on this earth in physical form. For readers other than you, Mom, it won't all be "big" stuff. Some of it will be rather mundane. But then I know you loved my stories, Mom. You loved to hear about what was going on.

Back to original text:

So today is a bit lengthier as it is dedicated to explaining what I am doing and why. I know you are interested, Mom; I know you are proud. I will place a link permanently on the Sense of Doubt blog main page leading to this content, so that I can always provide readers a quick link to the purpose of and thinking behind "Hey, Mom!", a blog feature. I also may wish to add to and edit this text as I develop this feature. It's what happened with the T-shirts blog as that evolved. It seems natural and fitting.

It's just like when I called. Even when I couldn't visit in the last few years, I would call. I called nearly every day, and you listened, Mom. This blog is going to take the place of those phone calls because I am going to miss calling you, talking to you, all the time, every day.

So that's today's "Hey, Mom!" She loves it. I can tell.

This post ends like those phone calls. Have Dad give you a kiss. I love you, Mom.

-end of original text-

ADDED in October 2015

Check out this entry

BLOG ENTRY #88 - 90 Days.

This entry does a better job of explaining the purpose of the blog than I gave in this entry #1 previously, so I am adding it here as I try to direct all new traffic here to this first post  as an introduction to the series.

Update from Mother's Day 2017 - 1705.14

So this is what I wrote on Mother's Day and updated (extra text) to include here.

I have been wanting to write about how I have moved on in regards to grief, Mom. Sure, I am still grieving, but it's not constant, and it's not crippling. I am concerned that readers will think that by continuing my HEY MOM series that I am holding on, clinging, obsessed, looking for sympathy.

Not the case.

My loss, losing you, Mom, is not more unique than all the others who have lost parents, loved ones, and far less tragic than losses of young children.

But loss is loss, and measuring one loss against another seems like splitting hairs. It may serve a good purpose in validating someone's loss -- say of losing a young adult after his first semester at college as a friend of mine experienced late last year, which seems orders of magnitude more painful than losing you, Mom, after 79 years -- but not really useful in other ways. Because loss is loss, and we must all learn to live with it because we will all lose people. It's inevitable.

I want to be clear about the purpose of this HEY MOM blog feature, and why I continued it past my original plan of posting on 365 consecutive days.

This blog started with grief. It started as a way to cope with my grief. But it's not about grief anymore, and it was never JUST about grief.

It's about life.

It's about living.

It's about the things that I want to share or that I want to write about.

And I am sharing with my Mom as I always have, but really now, that's more tribute than meant to be seen as direct communication at least by other readers. I know that I am still communicating with you, Mom, in a hundred ways every day, but for readers of this blog, I want you to enjoy my work, whether it's original content (as I manage at least once a week) or a repost with very little text from or repost share with some more significant text from me.

That's a blog in the life of me, Mom. And here it is.

However, for more examination of what I have written about grief, check out the following link to my Hey Mom - Grief category. There is also a category just called Grief, but the Hey Mom one has all the posts specifically about grieving the loss of you, Mom, plus other grief posts of people who have died whom I mourn.

HEY MOM GRIEF CATEGORY

This is the ending I devised later and came back and added.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 02 days ago

Hey look! Obituary!

Battle Creek Enquirer Obituary for Marjorie E. Tower

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- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1507.06 - 21:31
updated - 1507.08, 1507.09
and - 1510.20 - 20:17
and - 1705.15 - 8:45


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Here's the original banner text from the top of the blog from when I began the "Hey Mom" series. I changed it originally in 2015, when I started, I changed it again 1801.03 after posting item #911 in the series, and so I archive it here.

The main current project is a series of posts charting my grief journey after the death of my mother. "Hey, Mom! Talking to my Mother" chronicles my ongoing conversation with my mother, an activity that goes well with the theme of this blog (updated 2015).  The Sense of Doubt blog is dedicated to my motto: EMBRACE UNCERTAINTY. I promote questioning everything because just when I think I know something is concrete, I find out that it’s not.


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