12-01-05

Mother Loss: Finding Strength in the Midst of Sorrow

When people question and analyze life there might be many different small questions for the many aspects of life and living. The biggest question of sorrow and unfairness is why. We cry out in anguish, “Why does this happen? Why do innocent people suffer? Why do ‘normal’ people die young? Why?



There are things in life that will make you cry and its times like these when you barely get by. There are people in life who will make it hard, there are times when you’ll feel like you’re on your guard.



It’s the end of summer of 1997. I am awakened by the sobbing of my sister on the bed next to mine. The next thing I hear, “Mama had died”. читать дальшеThis doesn’t register in my 10-year old sleepy mind. I have to think and put everything in its place. I see my sister and father crying. Should I cry too? I am confused. How could mama be dead? That doesn’t sound right at all. Why are they saying this horrible thing? From this thought alone I start to cry. I don’t understand what is going on. My sister and I get dressed quickly because we all are going to the hospital to clear the confusion of my mom’s state of being. I ran along my father’s side, and try to keep up with my family. We are going to the bus stop to get to the hospital where my mom is at.



You are the light in my darkness, my shelter in a storm. You give me strength when I am weak, and your love to keep me warm.



A little girl, named Lizzy, is sitting a dark corner of a small room, rocking back and forth. Her glassy eyes stare into the emptiness before her, seeing nothing in particular. A woman, called her mother, had just beaten the child again. Lizzy is afraid to think. The only question in her mind is why. She doesn’t understand why she is being treated this way. What had she done wrong? Lizzy is a perfect obedient child, even to such an abusive mother that she has.



But up in the sky, the stars shine bright, over your sorrows and all through the night.



The night before, my sister and I left our mother to spend the night at our sisters’ place downtown. She lived at a little farm on the edge of our small city. We went to be with her whenever there was no school because our school was downtown. I loved to spend my summers with mom. I loved her and the simple house she had. I loved the nature and my childhood memories of all the times spend with her. On this particular August night we all decided to go back downtown to the older sisters, and our father was to be there too the next day. So we went there without knowing that we will never see our dearest mommy alive anymore, unknowingly saying our last goodbyes.



When I was hurting, lost, abused, it was then your faith that I had used. When I was cold, depressed and lonely, I stayed alive by your love only. When I felt pushed or shunned away, it was then your friendship made me stay.



An elderly woman, mother of five is being transported to the Hospice. She had lived her life full of everything – joy mixed with sorrow. Her children love her very much. She had been a perfect mother and wife to her now deceased husband of 50 years. After she had died, one of her daughters, Kate, told me about her. One of the things that I heard from Kate was this, “Never once did I ever hear her utter the words ‘why me?’. She always found a way to manage whatever hardships came her way. I know her faith and prayer gave her the strength to do that.” That is just amazing to hear such words from a dying person.



Upon those stars the angels watch, and guide us through life’s toughest parts. They make us laugh and dry our tears. They release our anger and calm our fears.

August 17, 1997. Russia, Gelendzhik. The Black Sea is rolling gently its waves warmed by the sunshine. Outrageous, unfair sun is sending its rays down on the little city where a burial is about to take place. Tears are shining too. They are the tears of my mother’s family and friends. She did die. There was some confusion to why the doctors wouldn’t let the family in to see her while, as they say, she was unconscious. I don’t know what exactly happened. I only feel a void in my soul that was filled with my mother’s warm presence. The childhood carefree days are gone for me forever.



When I was sick and felt like dying, I knew you loved me by your crying. I knew you loved me, knew you cared. You took the time to learn, to see, just what I really am in me. You listened to my thoughts and fears, and helped me wipe away my tears.



One day while Lizzy was in school, her friend approached her with a big sweet smile on her face. Masha told what a wonderful time she had with her mother last night. She had been missing her mom a lot since she left to another city because of her work. But now, when she is back together with her daughter, Masha is glowing with happiness and peace. She told Lizzy, the abused child, the perfect family story. Lizzy couldn’t understand why two women called mother could be so different. Masha described joy and understanding, while Lizzy experienced sorrow and mistreatment. How could this be? Why?



There are angels among us when you’re feeling blue, and when you feel alone they come to you. They pick you up and hold your hand. They walk with you. They understand.



Kate told me how her mother died. She told of how they saw that she was in pain. I immediately was glad that even though my mom died at a younger age, she didn’t go trough much pain in dying. She died quickly. Kate’s mother was suffering. With her the family was hurting too. Even though her family had time to prepare for the fact that their mother would die soon, they went through so much. They saw living death. My family experienced a sudden blow, but it was short and direct. I believe that is better in some way. I know this is not an answer to the why in my heart, but I learn trough pain to be strong. Every ones’ life is different. All experience sorrow, but in individual ways. Some ways are similar, while others are very unique. The death of my mother is my own sorrow.



You helped me learn, respect and love, to pray to God my Lord above. You’re the light in my darkness; I hope you’ll see -- I’ll love you, Mom, for eternity.



While I was reading one of Janette Oke’s books “The Matchmakers”, I found this interesting dialogue between two friends:

“He’s been so lonely since we lost Mama.”

“But that’s what? Eight years now?”

“Nine. Nine next August.”

“Surely he’s over it by now.”

“Jude, it’s not like the measles. You never get over it. Not really. It’s always there. The ache. The loneliness. The feeling of being…robbed. The pain gets less, but the…the hurt never goes away.” (23)

This is true. I have lost my mother. Over the years the pain had decreased, but I will always miss her. I hurt. But now, I understand that I have been privileged to have a gentle mother. I cherish the memories that I have of her. They are the best comfort. Through the stories of others, I can understand that I have been blessed in a special way other people are not. Lizzy had a mother who did not show love. Kate had seen the suffering of her mom. I have been cared for with unconditional love, and have not seen my mom suffer.



So the sadder you get and the worse you feel, always remember, angels are here.



A photograph is lying in my lap. A face is looking at me. It’s my mother. I remember the good and hard times I have shared with her. She was so busy with all the work at our little farm on the edge of the city. On the photo she is standing beside our last cow Sima. Mom is tending her. My mother’s appearance is of one who works hard. I know see that she did work too hard. It was better for her to go from this world, to run away from the endless problems of everyday life at the farm, caring for her 8 children. Her head must have hurt badly. She did take some kind of medicine for that. I let her go now, understanding that she is in a much better place right now. She is waiting for us.



The ‘why’ is still here with me in some way, but it is dissolved in the realization of the blessings gained trough sorrow. I will cherish the gift of my mother forever. I have lost a mother, but have gained an angel.



A little love, a little trust, a soft impulse, a sudden dream, and life as dry as desert dust is fresher than a mountain stream. So simple is the heart of man, so ready for new hope and joy; ten thousand years since it began have left is younger than a boy.

Stopford A. Brooke





WC

Works Cited

Brooke, Stopford A.

Knipper, Kerry. “Angels Among Us.” Chicken Soup for the Soul. Boston. 20.

Oke, Janette. “The Matchmakers.” Multnomah Pub., Oregon. 23.

Robertson, Robyn. “My Light.” Chicken Soup for the Soul. Boston. 12.

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