I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve written on my blog. For a while, I thought it was just me that had dropped into a large crater deep into the crust of the earth, otherwise known as my home. Okay, that’s a bit dramatic I suppose. I just ended up spending a whole lot of time at home throughout the pandemic. It occurred to me though, that if this world survives, decades later, the one thing of me that may make it, is my writing. The experiences we have day to day will describe life as it is now, and someone might wish to know how we stayed home and battled this pandemic.
I suppose the reason I think this way now is because of my mom. The past several years, I spent spending as much time as I could with her as her health was failing. We talked for hours, she was to me my personal encyclopedia–a lifetime of knowledge few could retain in their late 80’s. The struggle of helping an elderly parent is rough, but not as rough as it is for the parent that needs the help. I witnessed her dozens of surgeries, drove her to many emergency room visits at all times of the day and night. I’m not complaining, it was an honor to be there for her. Which brings me back to writing. My mom passed-away (a term she hated, I think she preferred to say that someone died, croaked or kicked the bucket. We bantered about everything, and since this is my blog, I’m saying what I want to.) She died, okay mom you win, from a heart condition in May of 2020. I know many people had asked her to write an autobiography, her life was one full of so many interesting and unusual circumstances. I wish she had but, I know she had tried, but that interesting life never stopped until the end. Here is a small bit of her writing I recently found in a calendar that she wrote:
“Before I forget, and before those who lived these pages are lost in the dust of history. Years ago I graduated from high school with a small group of boy and girls. I then went to work in an office in a very boring job. My best friend when to Rockford, IL to be, “educated” as a nurse. She was- she only had to pay $270 for a three year education, and she received free uniforms, books, room and board. This included the loving care of the Sisters of St. Francis in loco parentis. We were also cared for in sickness including hospitalization, if needed. We had classes & we worked. After the first few months, we settled into a steady 5 1/2 day work schedule, plus classes –that’s getting ahead of the story– let’s go back a bit. We were a class of 38, all female students, no males were allowed. We lived in the dorm, we had private rooms. Most of us, in fact all of us with one exception were fist time and becoming nurses. The one exception was Betts. I think she was 25. That seemed ancient to us who were 18 and 19. Betts liked her liquor too! We had another older classmate, she was 30, but just the opposite of Betts. Roberta, Bert we nicknamed her. was a tiny grey-haired girl with a serious outlook in life in general.”
And that was all. I wished I could have gone on to read so much more of her life, but for that, I’ll have to rely on memories. I remember the stories she told me about her life as a US Army nurse, of going to Germany in the Army and even having Elvis himself pull her aside to sing, “American Beauty Rose” by Frank Sinatra. He wanted her to go to a party he was having, she kindly said, “nope”. Which totally cracks me up, I’m guessing, “The King” wasn’t turned down often in his prime Army days, but he ran into and picked my mamma in her prime. Snarky, intelligent, stunning, and not a humble bone in her body. She exuded confidence, and goodwill all at the same time. This was the same time in her life in which a physician threw an amputated leg at her, but that’s an entirely different story.
Of course, I mourned this incredible woman. Not just as my mom, but for all that she was. A friend, a confidant, and the person that had all the answers, oh I cannot forget her snarky sense of humor. She laughed no matter the situation. It felt to me that not just had a pandemic taken over the entire world, but life had to halt for me. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me, and I had become a different person overnight. I had to regain my balance to walk again. So wobbly moving, step by step and inch by inch. I got through the past year and a half, to see that I will always mourn her. I am blessed that I do, not everyone will, because not everyone got to really know her. I have to add that she wasn’t easy to have as a mother. She was used to being in charge, and sometimes being so smart and naturally a head-turner for most of her life, she could be unforgiving and demanding. But I even miss that part of her now. I can still hear her in my head as I grab anything containing sugar, “A moment in mouth, and a lifetime on the hips!”
I shared with my mom my desire to write, and she wanted to help me with it. She wasn’t a fan of my mediumship but she still was willing to edit and help. This shocked me since she was a very religious person. VERY Catholic. We spent hours arguing about religion, and our ideas of life after death. People always ask if I have communicated to with her and my father from the other side. You bet. Actually both my parents communicated through a mentor of mine. My mom wouldn’t stop yelling and my dad wouldn’t stop laughing and sharing what he wanted to say. Just like they were while here. It’s nice to have that evidence that they are still the same, but I know this was only to show me that it was indeed them. The bantering Midwestern couple that could have been a reality show.
Mourning as a medium, is perhaps not the same as it is for other people. I find myself asking them questions, and getting answers. Yesterday, “Hey mom do you happen to know where I put that recipe for date cake?” I went on with my day of readings, and between clients, I opened up a folder on my desk and the recipe was right there on top. I find myself saying, “thanks Mom!” almost more than when she was physically here. I cannot physically see my loved one’s, unless I look at photos or close my eyes and ask for a vision. But it’s odd, they never appear as I remember. They look glowing, and happy, and healthy. Some may think this is just my imagination, but through the years, I’ve gotten enough evidence that there is no doubt in my mind that what I am experiencing is them, and those of my clients loved one’s. Almost daily, I get to see and visit with them, and share in healing of grief. One of the last things I heard my mom say about my work was, “She actually thinks she’s helping people.” as I over heard her griping about my work. I asked her then, “Do you believe that I don’t?” and yes, I have received an answer to this from her, “I think I was envious because I didn’t believe this, and I wish I had the chance to have communicated with my own family that I’d lost while I was alive.” I’ve also heard many times, “I know I wasn’t easy.” To that I say, Thank you for not making it “easy”. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. And I laugh because that was one of her favorite things to say when things were difficult. Truly, if our loved one’s made it easy would we have the tenacity to get through a pandemic? Would we be able to move through life gracefully when dealing with losses, tragedy, and incurable diseases? No, so for that I am grateful, and will always mourn every person I’ve lost, and every pet that loved me unconditionally.
Stay tuned!
