By Derek Barnes–
Like many, I labored each year before Mother’s Day to find the right thing to give and say to let my mom know how much I care. I sent the obligatory card or bouquet of flowers that I thought would best declare my undying love—thinking that these material items would somehow make up for all the love that she poured into me over a lifetime.
Do you ever get so busy with your own life, that you scramble at the last minute to make sure things were rushed to arrive in time? I did. A few years, I missed the Mother’s Day deadline and would feel guilty. But a phone call on that day was always a sure-fire way to earn redemption—never figuring out that it wasn’t really the stuff that I sent that mattered to her. How do you express love for someone who has provided you with so many tangible and intangible gifts over the years? The answer finally hit me in a way that I never expected.
Several years ago, I lost my mother on November 20 due to cancer treatment complications. Every year leading up to Thanksgiving provides a time for grieving and reflection. 2020 felt notably different and my grieving amplified as we all navigated a world that had been changed forever by COVID-19.
My mother’s youngest sister lost her battle with cancer at a very young age. She was only 60 and they were very close. I still remember my mother being strangely stoic when her sister died. My aunt was like a second mother, and I was asked to deliver the eulogy at her funeral. At the time, I didn’t feel like I had the strength or emotional fortitude to perform the request. It was difficult, but in some strange way it prepared me for mom’s inevitable death.
When my mom finally passed, the waves of emotions were unimaginable and overwhelming. Years later, it’s still a strange feeling to realize that she’s not physically here. Her birthday, Thanksgiving, and Mother’s Day are the times when I think about her the most. I wish I could still send her all those silly material expressions of love and gratitude.
For those who met my mom, she was that quintessential New Yorker. She was intrepid and resourceful, and a successful entrepreneur, always on the move and never slowing down, and blessed with infinite energy and opinion. But it was her big heart that most remember as she extended endless generosity and compassion for those who were not as fortunate. All qualities and non-negotiable values she bestowed upon me and many others in her orbit.
While mom never smoked a day in her life, she was born with chronic asthma and lung disease, which rarely kept her from doing what she wanted to do in being of service to others. With these preexisting conditions and hospitalized many times during her life, she always beat the odds. She never stopped caring for those around her even as she fought her bouts with cancer later in life. She was still the eternal optimist, never complaining as she moved to conquer any obstacle that got in her way. All amazing gifts that she also passed along.
The last few months of her life were difficult as a series of medical conditions and emergencies, due to her chemotherapy, severely taxed her already impaired health. Her final treatments were just too much for her frail body and lungs, and these medicinal assaults made breathing a horrific struggle. Most of us take the ability to breathe normally for granted. Healthy breathing is essential for physical strength, stamina, focus, and mental acuity. Mom’s ability to breathe worsened to the point that she was ultimately admitted into critical care, where she would spend her final days.
Her doctors and medical practitioners took excellent care of her and made her as comfortable as possible. When it was time for me to decide to discontinue life support, I didn’t think I had the strength to make that decision. She had been unresponsive for several days, and I intellectually knew there was no more that we could humanly do for her, even though I still hoped she could rebound and rally as she’d done so many times before. Her body was just too worn down. Mom was unselfish, but she also relished a little vanity, and I knew that she would not have wanted to be in this condition. Being the sole person deciding to end her life was the most daunting and painful decision I have ever made.
I’m someone who likes inquiry and data to support my decisions. Myriad questions arose that I wished I could ask her, like could we have done anything more, is there something you want me to know, and can you tell me what to do? I consulted with doctors, family, and friends. But through some telepathic connection, I listened to my mother’s wishes and found the strength. I decided to take her off life support late in the evening with many questions that went unanswered.
After making several calls to other family members, I remained with her in the room alone. It was late, several hours passed, and I eventually fell asleep in the chair beside her bed—emotionally drained. Deep in my slumber, I heard a voice that gently said, “Wake up now, it’s time to go.” I woke up suddenly, feeling relaxed, having extraordinary clarity, and profoundly connected to my mother. When I stood up and glanced over at her lying in the hospital bed, I could see her breathing gradually slowing down. Instinctively feeling that it was time to say goodbye, I held my mother’s hand and watched her breathing become shallower until she took her final breath.
In the space between her chest rising and finally falling for the last time, a flood of thought and emotion were unleashed as I cried uncontrollably. Rest now. I’m very proud of you. Thank you. Forgive me. You are loved by so many. I’m so fortunate. Don’t leave me. I’m scared. I wish we had more time. I hope you’ve been proud. I’m sorry … I love you.
All those thoughts and emotions, in a split second, were distilled down to a single pure feeling of love. It was a moment to remind me that we unknowingly pass along our gifts to one another every day—tangible and intangible. Each breath is an opportunity to tell someone what they mean in our lives while they are still with us.
Being there with mom, the moment of her passing, was the ultimate gift. This final lesson was revealed to me and what she always wanted me to understand. I was grateful to have been with my mother as her spirit left its ailing physical body to begin a new journey, and I would begin mine with all her strength and remarkably beautiful and extraordinary gifts.
Derek Barnes is CEO of East Bay Rental Housing Association
(www.EBRHA.com ). He currently serves on the boards of Horizons Foundation and Homebridge CA. Follow him on Twitter @DerekBarnesSF or on Instagram at DerekBarnes.SF
Published on May 6, 2021
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