Home Game Week 4, Figures of Speech

Biting the dust

Breathing their last breath

Buying the farm

Croaking

Crossing over

Crossing the Rainbow Bridge (for pets)

Departing

Expiring

Fading fast

Getting his/her wings

Going six feet under

Kicking the bucket

Losing the battle

Meeting your maker

Passing

Playing harps

Pushing up daisies

Reaching the pearly gates

Resting in peace

Riding off into the sunset

Shuffling off this mortal coil

Taking one final lap

Transitioning

These are all ways to describe my mother’s current existence. It hasn’t happened yet because she is such a fighter and also so fcking stubborn. She cannot do anything for herself. She is miserable. She is incapable of enjoying anything aside from a few sips of Diet Coke. (And the ability to suck from a straw is diminishing.) If she didn’t still know who I am or who my brother is, I would back away and wait for “that phone call”. She is still unable to let go of life because she is incredibly attached to my brother and he is attached to her. (He will never admit that, but it’s true. Everyone who truly knows our family dynamic knows it’s a fact.) He is her Superman. She is both his nosy, meddling mother but also his biggest ego feeder. Their relationship is weird. As for me, I am the dutiful daughter; the people-pleaser. I am the rule-follower. He handles the paperwork, but I do the dirty work.

In 1996, before our dad died, my brother and I promised him that we would take care of Mom. Telling him that it was OK to go wasn’t necessary. All he needed was reassurance that the small yet somewhat dysfunctional family unit of four would still carry on as a trio, even if we were beginning to seek out our own life-paths.

Human biology as it pertains to (not) sustaining life, is going to eventually win out. Power of the mind will cease when the mind can no longer sustain control. A new order is coming.

The Mothership has had 95 blessed years of friendships, family, travel, education, creative endeavors and privileges. 95! May we all have 95 years of time like my mother’s. Her lack of quality days in recent years is her own doing in that she refused therapies, refused to eat a proper diet and refused social opportunities. I have no guilt. I have no regrets. I know I have taken stellar care of her when she has needed it. Unlike with my dad’s passing almost 30 years prior, I can accept this, because she has not been cheated out of time.

Do I wish she could have taken me more seriously? Sure. Do I wish she could have given me the validation I needed as a kid and young adult? Of course. Do I wish she could see me as a successful person even if I don’t earn a six-figure wage or have special connections with socially elite people? Absolutely, I do. Still, she is my mom. She has been a dominating force in my life. (Perhaps too dominating?) I won’t deny this fact. The void without her will be huge for me. I will think about her every goddamn day, and I will remember the fun and funny stuff (family vacations, the lost, melted Hershey bar in the car the day she wore white shorts, the lizards and how they made her scream, watching the Reds and Bengals games, our mutual love of arts and crafts, respect for animals, oh, and margarita nights. Likewise, I will not forget the criticisms or the emotional manipulations and continue to learn from those moments so that I can be mindful enough to break that cycle for my kids and grandkids.

The Mothership has taught me a lot about life and how to achieve things I want. I’m not wired to be as (passive) aggressive as she has been, but I am OK with that. I don’t always get what I want, but definitely get all that I need and then some. When my mother has aggravated me with her pushy nature, I remember my gentle grandmother, (her mom), who was one of my heroes. In spite of any faults my mom has, she came from goodness and kindness. She came from values and hope.

I’m going to miss my mom a lot, but I will be okay.