The Tear

A Memory of Mama

One of the most difficult things I've ever had to deal with was being in an unhappy marriage and living so far from family that I had to take my daughters out of school just to visit for a few days.

Of course, it was balanced by occasional visits from them to us, until Mama was diagnosed with the first of two different kinds of cancer she would eventually have to fight.  It was devastating for me to be so far away. 

At that point, the visits became my responsibility because of surgeries, chemo and other necessary cancer treatments and hospitalizations.  It was also becoming harder and harder to convince my three daughters we had to take the twelve to fifteen-hour drive again every two to three weeks. 

I knew it was as disruptive to them as the drive was difficult for me –-but this was Mama, the woman who unselfishly gave her love and guidance and never complained if one of us needed something ---and someone always needed something.  She and Daddy were my rock when my first husband was killed in Vietnam.  They saw that all of us had what we needed to shape our lives and get ourselves pointed in the right direction.

Mama was a tiny little thing, 5’ and maybe 95 pounds. She and Daddy together, as always, raised six children and an occasional foster child or two. She was a talented seamstress, a great cook, and she loved to decorate our home ---the original Susie Homemaker.  On top of everything else, she had been secretary to the Superintendent of Schools, until cancer.

Where she excelled was loving and caring for the family.  Mama had a great sense of humor, but you didn't want to cross her.  She was a formidable disciplinarian -- I had my fanny warmed more than a few times!  But mostly, Mama was my confidante, my best friend, and my sounding board.

Several years before, Mama had gone through a radical mastectomy, but the cancer had eventually spread to one kidney, which was also removed. She had been treated with every kind of chemo available and had just finished the last cancer trial drug.

With only one kidney, the drugs took their toll and she slipped into a coma. The family was called, including relatives as far away as Florida, Kentucky, Wyoming, and me in New Hampshire.  In the end, we were all there by her bedside.

The best medical minds in the country pulled us into a conference room. They told us her body was shutting down. Her remaining kidney had stopped producing urine, she was in a coma on life support. She had fought a valiant battle, but the cancer had won. They felt it was time to unplug her machines, since that is what her last wishes were.

It was a terrible moment. I'll never forget the look on Daddy’s face as the doctor’s message sank in. Up until that one moment, he was convinced he would bring her home.  He was a broken man and we group hugged in that claustrophobic little room. The doctors encouraged us to say our goodbyes, although Mama was in a deep coma and would be unaware we were there.

Those were her last wishes and we would abide by them. We would each say our good-bye to Mama alone and after the last one, we would surround her bed, hold hands, play her favorite music, and say the Lord's Prayer while the staff unplugged the machines.

When it was my turn and I saw her, it was unreal to see this once vibrant woman so helpless and quiet. I put my head down next to Mama's. After a while, I put my arm around her and whispered that I loved her.  Through stubborn tears, I told her it was alright for her to go. I knew she was tired of fighting. I promised her, the girls and I would be fine and all of us would take care of Daddy.  Then I thanked her for being Mama and my best friend. 

As I wiped my eyes and stood to go, I watched one tear slowly run down her cheek and melt into the white hospital pillow.  

Mama had heard me ...