Grief, I’ve learned is really just love you want to give but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go. -Jamie Anderson
As the song, rattles through my head, I feel a sense of sadness because I lost my very own “sunshine,” that place where “love” comes from.
You Are My Sunshine” – Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Home for Mom had always been within a few short miles of her birthplace on Beeler Street, New Albany, Indiana, in a small house where she lived with her parents and sister and where her little brother died from pneumonia at the age of four. My parents married in their early twenties and bought a very, small “Shotgun House” on Shelby Street three blocks away. Mom and Daddy, in their late thirties, built a beautiful brick ranch house only three miles away. While I was growing up, we lived on Spring Avenue in a cute little house perfect for three, again only within a mile of her birthplace.
In 1991, John and I built a “dream house” outside the city limits where Mom, Daddy, and my oldest sister lived quite comfortably for many years. Every evening after dinner they sat in rocking chairs on the beautiful wrap-around porch sipping white wine and talking to the neighbors as they walked by. It was a wonderful relaxed time where the only sounds were birds chirping and an occasional train whistle in the distance.
My Mom’s best quality was that she could compartmentalize. It was her way of surviving life with my father who was somewhat difficult. My five-year-old great-nephew once said of Grandpa, “You are just like that man in the movie.” We all looked at Brandon and said, “What movie?” His response was, “You know, Grumpy Old Men.” To illustrate, we were visiting our home in Indiana and my parents had been out with friends the night before. When I went into the garage I found the whole side of the car damaged. I went back into the house said, “What happened to the car?” Mom’s typical matter-of-fact reply was, “Oh your father hit some mailboxes.” I said, “Where?” Mom said, “I don’t know, I had my eyes closed!” and that was the way mom dealt with things.
After my father died, my mother became quite lonely. Even though her days were filled with volunteering at the hospital, bowling, and playing bridge, it was especially difficult in the late evening when they had always played cards. Having shared a life for over 55 years those memories became even more important.
In 2000, John and I moved to Florida, and Mom spent that first Christmas with us. The weather was frigid, and the fireplace was a real treat. With only time to put up a small tree, we were not going to let a considerable move from London to Florida stop us celebrating. Boxes surrounded us, while we opened gifts and enjoyed one another.
Mom stayed with us during the winters trying to escape the isolating snow and cold of Indiana. It was best for all of us for her to stay in Florida, and I realized what a fantastic gift she had become.
“Here Comes the Sun” – George Harrison
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun,…
Every morning I found my mother sitting on the sofa, mug of coffee in hand, eating cereal, watching the Today Show while reading the newspaper cover to cover. She had only moved to Florida a couple of years before and knew very few people in her new home, but that would soon change.
She was due to fly back to Indiana, and I took her to the doctor. He asked if she was depressed, and to my surprise, her reply was, “Yes.” I realized this depression came from the thought of returning to Indiana. I said, “Are you kidding me?” “We WANT you to live here full time. You don’t have to go back to Indiana.” That’s how she became a Floridian.
Mom began the similar rituals that she had in Indiana. She found a place to have lunch and play bridge once a week. She developed good friends and they would sometimes play in the evenings while imbibing wine and snacks. They would alternate venues, and when they were with us, you could hear their uproarious laughter the entire evening.
I enjoyed the time spent with Mom and her friends and took them on outings to places in St Pete. I thought they might enjoy various museums and attractions, but soon realized they were only going because I took them to great places for lunches where they drank with enthusiasm They were lucky to have a designated driver! Most of them were over 90 but that didn’t stop their joie de vivre.
I hadn’t appreciated how amusing my mother was until we were at an Arlo Guthrie concert when the man in front of us, resting his arm on the seat, wore a bracelet that had the simple letters “WWJD” (What Would Jesus Do?). Mom turned to me, pointed to the bracelet, and said, “Well he wouldn’t be wearing THAT!”
We took her everywhere because our friends seemed to enjoy her as much as we did. She attended every British Car Club meeting with us and knew all the members by name. I sailed with various women’s sailing groups, and she participated in every lunch event possible, again knowing every name. Her particular favorites were the Christmas Parties with the gift exchanges. Everyone looked forward to seeing her as much as she enjoyed being with them.
Mom became used to spending the holidays in England with our family. We stayed in London and every day visited a different family member or friend. Mom knew all of our friends in England.
Each year we tried to take her on a vacation. On her 80th birthday, just after losing my father, we wanted to make her celebration even more special, so we took her to Paris. Mom studied French in high school, and for over 65 years, she dreamed of visiting Paris. We took her to Nice, and Cannes a few years before but that was not Paris, we were reminded. Paris was a wonderful trip, leaving London by train, going through the Channel Tunnel, and continuing by fast train into Paris. It was everything she dreamed it would be. She saw the Eiffel Tower and traveled down the Seine by boat stopping to visit Notre Dame. She enjoyed the food and wines more than I had expected and, the culture was something she had only read about in books. She was enthralled by the shops on the Champs Elysees and stopped to buy a bottle of perfume.
We decided every year should be marked by a celebration.
For two years, we took her to the Cayman Islands where she would stay in the pool while we went to dive. We took friends with us, so she was never lonely. We told her so much about “Stingray City” that she felt ready to give it a try. We took a lovely, large catamaran out to where the stingrays came to feed, and she persisted though the water was rough. We finally got a “Mae West” for her because the waves were as tall as her five-foot frame. With her between us, John and I swam out to where she was able to feed and hug some four feet wide stingrays. She loved every minute and though it proved a struggle at times, she had her photos with the giants!
One year, I organized a cruise with our sailing group and arranged a surprise for Mom and John to swim with dolphins in the Bahamas. Another photo op not to be believed. The refrigerator magnet still sits proudly on the door.
While on the cruise, I saw her sitting near the pool with our friend Tom. I couldn’t imagine what they were talking about so intently. As I walked over, I saw them looking at one young girl after another. I arrived to hear Mom saying, “Those were Christmas Gifts,” as she pointed to the young woman’s somewhat out of proportion breasts. She could always surprise me and make me laugh.
The following year she decided she had never been snorkeling and she wanted to try. For weeks before going to The Keys, she practiced in our pool with her very own mask and snorkel and continued when we arrived at Key Largo. She stayed aboard while John and I did a dive onto the ship “The Spiegel Grove”. The waters were very rough and for the first time in her life, Mom became seasick. She was very grateful for the calm waters at the next site where we had planned for her to snorkel.
From the beautiful waters of the upper Keys, we traveled to Key West, staying in a charming B & B where Mom got to see the Hemingway House and the Eisenhower Winter White House. She loved all the history, but she really waited for the nightlife of Key West. To her, sitting in the out of door eateries watching the flamboyance of The Keys excited her. Seeing nearly nude, painted bodies, made her laugh. She was always accepting of everyone.
I noticed Mom was reading posts from friends of mine on Facebook when I asked if she would like a Facebook Page of her own. We set up her Facebook Account and before I knew it she was a 90 year old with 87 friends. She had my I-Pad so she could monitor everyone anytime she liked. She kept track of family members she rarely saw which made her feel more connected.
On her 90th birthday, I asked her how she wanted to celebrate. She said to me, “Remember when we went to Zephyr Hills for you to fly a sailplane?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “Well, I want to fly one!” I knew a couple of people with sailplanes, and we arranged for a flight. To celebrate, she was “Up, Up and Away.” I took pictures of the take-off and landing using photos from my previous flight, included them into a lovely video to the music of, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
Every birthday there was a party with lots of food and friends. But on her 94th, we took her to have her nails and hair done while guests arrived for a surprise party. All of her friends from bridge came as well as the sailing and car club friends. It was a huge celebration and a fantastic surprise. This was to be her last…
“You Are My Sunshine” – Stevie Wonder
You are the sunshine of my life
That’s why I’ll always be around
You are the apple of my eye
Forever you’ll stay in my heart
Soon after her September party, she became more tired than usual, so we took her to the doctor and were told to rush her to the hospital. The Cardiologist told me to call the family that she would not make it home. I called my sisters, and they dropped in to say goodbye. She was in the hospital for a week and as she grew stronger the doctor told us we could take her home but her time was short. It was then I told her we would do whatever she wanted every day. She liked to go to Peaches Cafe for breakfast, so we went. She got a single blueberry pancake and coffee and was happy. Lunches were to be at Wendy’s where she liked her Junior Cheeseburger, Junior Fries and the occasional Frosty. That’s what made her happy, and that was my goal. She wanted to shop, and she had her favorite store so we would travel to Beall’s a few times a week. Some days she would buy something, and other days she just liked to “window shop.”
One evening, friends came and we went to a local restaurant across the road. All seven of us were able to squeeze into a large booth. The people had not known Mom long so they rapidly fired questions at her. The subject of my age came up as I was going to be celebrating my 55th birthday. Our friend did the math, “Audra, if you are 94 and Deb, is 55 you must have been older when you had her.” Mom replied, “Yes.” The friend did something I had never done and said, “Audra, if you didn’t plan to have another child, and Deb was born in December, what happened in March?” My mother, always the practical, one replied, “It was her father’s birthday!”
In November, she was back in the hospital with the same prognosis, “Don’t expect her to go home.” She was in ICU, so I called my sisters again. They came for a visit, and in a few days, she was ready to leave again. My cousin JL drove over from the East Coast so she would have a surprise at her arrival back at the house. I told Mom that we were going home to Mimosas, and it was all about us enjoying one another. She was ecstatic to see her cousin.
As the month went on she grew weaker. I invited my family to come for Thanksgiving to be with her. A few came, and she loved every minute of seeing them. She was able to spend time with the loves of her life, her great grand-daughters. They lovingly touched her face, sat on her lap, and pushed her through the house in her wheelchair. “Archer! Stop going so fast!” was all we heard as Mom whooshed through the kitchen. We celebrated Christmas and Thanksgiving so they would have memories forever. I went out to get them gifts from Mom, and they loved them. They were making her multicolored bracelets by the handfuls.
The 1st of December rolled around, and Mom was still with us. Our close friends came from London for a week. We were sitting out on the lanai, drinking wine and enjoying one another. Theresa had just lost her Mum after a long illness. It was time to go to bed, and Mom started in the door when she tripped over the threshold and fell. We spent the night in the ER with her having multiple broken bones from her foot to her knee cap. They put her into a large brace, and a day later, she came home. It was cumbersome, so we bought a wheelchair for her. At that point, the doctor told us that we needed to call in hospice. They came once a week to check on her, preparing us for what was to come. Mom had no intention of dying, so she only heard what she wanted to hear. I tried to get her pastor from Indiana to call her to see if she was okay. She wouldn’t speak to him either. I think she was having too much fun.
It was Christmas, and she hadn’t eaten for days. Hospice told us how the illness would progress. Apparently death was a progression and not a single occurrence. We had friends come for Christmas Dinner, and we all stayed with her when she could spend time awake. Mom had bouts of extra energy. I was able to get her daughters, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren on the phone so they could all say goodbye.
Mom was declining but still talking a lot. We had people coming to help, lifting her, bathing her, and just trying to keep her comfortable.
She feared the nights. She would call on the intercom with any excuse asking to move her or to get a drink. We finally had to get help so that we could rest. I still didn’t sleep. I could see her bedroom across the house from my bed. Every time the light came on, I jumped and again went in to see how she was doing. It had now been months with nights of broken sleep, increasing the emotions.
It was on the 27th of December when I called my sisters. Only one wanted to come but said she needed to wait for the weekend. I explained there would be no weekend for Mom. I had called the hospice nurse to help make Mom comfortable. My mom was choking, and the medication wasn’t working. I waited for my sister to arrive. Mom wanted to say goodbye. Finally, at 2:00 PM, we could wait no longer. My sister came, and she spoke to Mom but could see the discomfort, the struggle. I asked if she was okay to help make Mom more comfortable. The nurse gave Mom her first dose of medication at 2:30 PM. I checked on her every few minutes just holding her hand and rubbing the velvety softness of her cheeks. She had been using a special anti-wrinkle cream for months. I guess she hadn’t planned to die. Neither did I.
At 3:30 AM, I went in to check on her, and she was still resting, but it would be soon. I couldn’t stay awake any longer when the nurse came in to say, “It’s time.” My sister, John and I were all holding onto her as if not to let her go. There were three cats on the bed and the dog beside her. We kept telling her it was okay and that we would be okay.
Maybe it was the thought of my father waiting for her that kept her here. I don’t know. (Sometimes he could be grumpy.) Finally, she passed quietly in the night with everyone who loved her with her.
“Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone” – Bill Withers
Wonder this time when she’s gone
Wonder if she’s gone to stay
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
And this house just ain’t no home
Anytime she goes away….