On February 7, a police officer called to tell me that my mother had been found dead in her home. They suspected a heart attack. Since that horrible moment, I’ve been so thankful for all of the people who have expressed their sincere condolences and who have provided help and support in ways big and small. One day, I’ll write something personal about my mom’s life, but I can’t do that yet. I wrote a simple obituary that you can find here. This blog post is because I never want to forget the many ways that people showed – and continue to show – that they care.
[Note: Rather than angst over whether I should refer to somebody as a friend or a colleague throughout this post, I’m just going to refer to everybody as a friend, as they all have a place in my heart.]
To say I was in shock when I received that call would be an understatement. My entire office jumped into action, calling Washington to get the funds for a plane ticket and talking to the Management section in the Embassy to get started on a reservation. It was after 3 on a Friday afternoon, when the Embassy is usually extremely quiet, as lots of people leave early. But within an hour, I had a confirmed flight for 8am the next morning and an expediter to help me through the airport (which probably saved my carry-on bag from being checked at the gate). I was shaking too much to fill out the necessary forms, so one friend filled it out for me, and I just scribbled a signature. One of my friends had already left for the weekend, but she returned to the office to give me a hug and make sure that I had everything I needed to return to the States. A number of friends dropped what they were doing in their offices to come give me a hug and offer to do anything that was needed. One friend drove me home while another drove my car to my house.
I am an only child, unmarried, with no children, and my mom had been divorced for decades. So it’s just me. I imagine it’s natural to say that I’m alone in this. And in many ways, that’s true. But in the midst of thinking that I had to hold it together and be independent, I learned that not only could I not do it alone, but I didn’t have to. I am so thankful for all of the friends and neighbors who reminded me in words and actions that I am not alone.
There were some little things that people said that set me free in that regard. That first night, one friend told me that all I could do was cry, and I thought, “that’s great, because that’s all I’m capable of right now”. All I had to do was pack my bags, and I was free to cry as much as I needed. A friend stopped by to get the spare keys to my house so that she could take care of my cat while I was gone. I mentioned to her all of the people who were being so kind and jumping through hoops to get me back to the States, and she told me that every one of them would do anything for me; all I had to do was be willing to ask. I can’t fully express the gratitude I felt as that concept began to sink into my soul. I could ask for help. I was not alone. Later that night, a friend texted me to ask if I had eaten yet, and when I said no, to tell me to please eat something. Because of her, I actually pulled myself out of my stupor on the sofa and ate a little something. Meanwhile, the condolences were rolling in on facebook. I read and greatly appreciated every one of those comments, even if I was unable to express that gratitude.
A dear friend picked me up the next day in DC, took me to lunch, and drove me the three hours south to my mom’s house. She stayed with me that weekend and the following weekend, scouting things out so that she could prepare me if necessary, going with me to the funeral parlor and the bank and to consult with a lawyer, remembering all of the questions that I couldn’t think to ask, and telling me that I was doing just fine when I would bemoan the fact that I couldn’t hold a thought in my head from one moment to the next, having to write everything down. She helped me go through files and closets and dealt with the things that I just didn’t want to face. I was there for two weeks, and friends and neighbors of my mom helped me with plans for moving forward and some key repairs to the house. I truly couldn’t have gotten through that without any of them.
When I first arrived, I also heard the stories about how the people in my mom’s community were looking out for her. My mom had been having a migraine for about a month. There may have been other issues in there, but that was the one she told me about. Her friend who lives across the street kept offering to go with her to the doctor. My mom would agree and then change her mind, but her friend would check in on her a couple times per day. The manager at the bank came to give me a hug and tell me that my mom had come in the week before and asked for help getting her car window closed, and she had been worried. I went to the pharmacy and learned that the pharmacy tech alerted the pharmacist out of concern for my mom. The pharmacist caught up with her and walked with her all the way to her car, asking if there was anybody he could call for her or if he could call emergency services. She just kept saying no and drove away. He was worried, so he tried to call her later, but she didn’t answer. He continued to worry, so he called her doctor. And I believe that call prompted the doctor’s office to call the police and ask for a welfare check. Hearing these stories made me thankful that there were people around her who cared and who went above and beyond trying to help. I am thankful that they were there looking out for her. For a variety of reasons, my mom never wanted to “impose” on people, and always felt that she had to be independent. But knowing that there were friends and people in her community who were offering help, and knowing that she had a very strict DNR order, I am comforted in knowing that she went on her own terms, even if it was not at the time she planned.
I got back to the DR about two weeks before everything went to max telework due to COVID-19. I usually read about 100 books per year. After my mom died, I found that I simply couldn’t read books for a couple weeks. I was just starting to read again when covid hit. So instead I’m watching youtube videos, listening to audible, and doing color-by-number pictures on my ipad. I saw an article in the Washington Post recently that talked about how a lot of people can only read old favorites these days, that our brains have so much to think about merely for survival (social distancing, wearing masks, washing hands, etc) that we just can’t focus on a lot of other stuff. So at least I know that this is normal. Brene Brown started a podcast in March, and one is an interview with David Kessler on grief. I found it to be excellent.
I still get hit by things. I suspect that may never end. A few weeks ago, I saw a photo of my mom out of the corner of my eye. I was so happy for a split second, and then I sobbed. I still haven’t made stovetop popcorn, because she made that my entire life, and I know I’ll cry the first time I do it. The other night, I cried about Christmas stockings. We always spent Christmas together. If it couldn’t be in person, then we’d call while we opened presents. As technology evolved, we’d skype if we couldn’t be together. I was her Santa; she was mine. This last Christmas, I finally convinced my mom that we should only do Christmas stockings going forward. Keep it simple. So we went out to a local art gallery and bought two new Christmas stockings. Now I cry just thinking about those stockings. Will they ever be used? Hung up or filled with gifts? Maybe I’ll just buy a bunch of items and fill them both and then open them on my own. If I do that, don’t be surprised if I show up at your house with hand-milled lavender soap. But even with these things, I’m having more good days than bad ones, more good moments than bad moments, and I suspect that’s positive progress. Grief is a very lonely thing, but I can’t do this alone. I am so thankful for all of the friends and helpers who are willing to be there for me during this journey.
