I cannot imagine the last five years of my mother’s life: while cancer ravaged her body, she endured the heart-shredding anguish of knowing she would leave behind three young children who adored her.
My 33rd birthday marked the year in her life when she was diagnosed. The year I was 38, I thought about how young that is to die. The first home we bought when I was 26 was nicer than any house she ever lived in; come to think of it, she never even owned her own home. And when each of my children reached their ninth, then tenth birthdays, I thanked God they wouldn’t have to know what it was like to lose their mom so young.
Memories of Mama blur to misty color the older I get…there was less than a decade for me to make them with her. Those still in focus, I grip with defiant clenched fists, hopeful the eraser of time won’t smudge them to something incomprehensible.
In spite of all this, when I think about her, I can’t help but marvel at her strength and tenacity and grace and valor with which she fought a ghastly opponent who didn’t play by the rules.
In comparison to now, treatment in the late 60s was barbaric (not to imply it’s "nothing" now). Surgeons scarred her body, radiation and chemo left their own brand of disfigurement. There was no such thing as pain management, and when she couldn’t stand it any longer, she’d drive a quarter mile down the street to get a shot at the hospital. I didn’t know this until my dad’s illness a few years ago, but she developed an addiction to pain meds, and for us, she agreed to ECT treatment to break the addiction. When I found out, all I could see was an endless reel of Russell Crowe as John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, except my mother was the patient. I imagined to what degree she was alone and scared and in pain and then I had to stop imagining because just the thought was too painful for me.
She didn’t complain, she just kept fighting. Diagnosed when my brother was a newborn and told she had just a few years left at best, she was steely in her determination to live until he reached kindergarten; she was sure by then she would have had enough time to seed memories that would last his lifetime. She died when he was five, just a few months before the start of school. He remembers drinking coffee with her from a child’s porcelain mug, white with a teddy bear on one side, dressed in blue and pink.
I look at her legacy–me…my sister, my brother–and I realize she was a "wonder woman". Not a superhero wrapped in patriotic costume saving the world, but a steel magnolia who not only had concern for others, she acted on it; who loved her children so much she prayed for–and received–added years to her life; who fought a fierce battle with dignity and courage; and who passed along a living faith unbound by disease or death.
It’s paradox to consider that her death is responsible to a large degree "who" I am today, and I’m thankful for how it shaped me…how it made me stronger, taught me to cope with the unimaginable, helped me distinguish between important and urgent, how it has helped me to be a better mother, and how it’s emphasized the preciousness of every day. She’s the reason my heart cries "carpe diem" and means it.
What a privilege to be her child.
~ Although this post has been floating around my mind in some way, shape or form for a while, Scribbit’s Write-away "Wonder Woman" theme prompted me to finally complete the thought; though it might be sad to read, it was a good thing for me to write :).
She’d appreciate that post.
Robin, this is wonderful. Makes me want to call my mom on the phone. (((hugs))))
What a testament you are to her beauty, love, and grace.
Okay. Tears. at 1:09 am. Beautifully written and a seriously wonderful tribute to your mama. 🙂 {hugs}
Robin That is a beautiful tribute to your mother (tears are flowing)x
What a eloquent post. I have tears in my coffee.
I have a son turning 11 this month and have had a few health scares myself. One of my biggest fears is not being here for him.
So sorry you and your family have had to deal with such a tragic loss.
This was beautiful. Not only can I not imagine what your mother went through, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.
Your mother would be so proud of you. Is this the anniversary of her death? I’ll be thinking of this all day today. Bless you.
Thank you, Robin, for this beautiful tribute. It touches me as both a daughter and now a middle aged mom.
What a beautiful tribute to your Mom, she sounds like an amazing woman. I’m sure she would so proud to see her legacy living on in you and your siblings and her grandchildren.
I’m sorry that you had to go through this, especially at such a young age.
Oh Robin. You’ve brought me to tears.
Beautiful and horrible all at the same time.
What a beautiful, beautiful tribute!
Beautifully written. Your mom was brave.
WT, I’d like to think that…:)
Monica, I hope you did!
Michelle, what a kind (and lovely) thought :).
Karen, INSOMNIA? Oh, no 🙁 (and thank you for your sweet words).
Chris, awww…more sweet words (thank you).
Jenny, you know…I look at it this way: it altered the course of my life and was the thing that has most shaped me (outside of my relationship with the Lord); though, I would not CHOOSE this, I realize the Romans 8:28 of it…truly.
Catnip, I wish I could have known my mom then, but as the person I am now…so I could ask her questions, love her, and just be her friend.
Shelly, no, but I was prompted to write this in response to one of Scribbit’s posts…(her Write Away theme is “Wonder Woman” and this is what came to mind).
Linda, Thank you…and you reminded me that I meant to add a paragraph! Hmmm, I’ll do that shortly.
Marmite, again, I wouldn’t choose this (even seeing how it’s shaped me and made me a stronger woman), but I can see “good” in the midst.
Jenny (Bloggess), is it odd I wasn’t sad when writing this? Just pensive. I knew it’d be sad to read, but truly…I guess time has healed the grief.
Laurel and Karmyn, thank you girlieQs…you’ve been in my “sphere” long enough to have a fuller picture than what this post reveals…I’m glad :).
You are a strong and beautiful woman! I’m so glad to know you.
Beautiful Robin. Thank you for reminding me to cherish each day with my parents – both of them still living, although both with health concerns of their own. I think of that song I hear on the radio, “Don’t it always seem to go, we don’t know what we’ve got ’til it’s gone…” I know I too often take my parents love for granted.
This post has also called me to be intentional mothering my son as well. Each day is a gift.
Precious reminder.
So many people say they’ve learned a life lesson but then forget it and plod on unaware – I’ve seen it in my own family.
You honor your Mom’s strength and courage by remembering all the milestones in your own life. By so clearly (from this post) truly understanding how precious and fragile life is.
I’m very much in awe of you.
One last thing – I have lost a lot of my memories of my grandmother BUT I always feel her hand in mine when I’m afraid, I can smell her baking when I’m happy. I often remember the tone of her voice.
It is the intangibles that will stay forever. Memories are more felt than remembered
Beautiful, Robin.
You have the rare ability to paint amazingly textured and nuanced pictures with your words. When you share these real life stories, we, the readers not only get something to ponder and enjoy, we come face to face with the unavoidable compulsion to feel. That’s a gift, my friend.
So…when do you want to talk about putting together a book proposal? I think there are a lot of book buyers out there who would really enjoy living inside your words. A little book of pensieve reflections would be just perfect for them.
I can help with the whole proposal thing. It’s what I do.
Oh Robin, I have shivers up and down my arms and tears in my eyes.
I’m sure your mother would be very, very proud of the woman you’ve become, and I wish that she was here to tell you so herself.
Beautiful tribute, Robin. Thank you so much for sharing this.
Love, Jeanne
Very lovely!!! Isn’t a good mother a wonderful blessing? I was much older than you when I lost my mom. But I watched her through many years suffer without whining. As I get older, have more health challenges, I realize how strong she was and hope that I can be a bit like her.
Thank you for sharing something so personal to you and your family–it’s nice to hear of the long lasting effects for good she had.
Your mother accomplished her goal, Pensieve. You’ve learned all that she fought to teach you in the short time you all had together. I’m glad that you have a mother who’s so worthy of this tribute
What a wonderful legacy to have children remember you so fondly. It sounds like you had a wonderful mother, and I’m sorry for you that she’s gone. Lovely tribute.
Jo-Lynne, I’m so thankful for YOU! Just think how BRAVE you were to invite A COMPLETE STRANGER TO SLEEP WITH YOU! 😉
Joy, I loved reading your sentiments, but what struck a particular chord was the phrase “intentional mothering”. That’s heady…if I’ve encouraged that in you (or me or anyone else), doesn’t that honor my mom yet again? What a happy thought!
Dianne, beautiful, friend…MORE beautiful thoughts. Your grandmother is honored in the things you still feel–what a tremendous legacy she left in your care :).
Stephen, wow…I KNOW that’s what you do, so your words here are amazing encouragement. I know, I know…I need to write more substance, not the fluff I like to play with. Thank you for speaking kindness and seeing the essence of what I tried to communicate. I had a lovely muse :).
Robin, Oooo, so do I! 🙂
Jeanne, truly (and I think you know this), m pleasure :).
Eve, I hear ya…if only we could always emulate those “good” things, ya know? And re: your health scares, I’ll pray for your peace and wisdom in knowing how to treat them.
Michelle, I think I take it all for granted until I have reason to stop and THINK about it :).
Faye, thank you for yet another way to look at all this.
OOooopsie, Dawn…you snuck in while I was typing. Thanks for your thoughts here…just like Jo-Lynne, I’m so glad I’ve hugged your neck! 🙂
What a precious tribute, Robin. You have done your Mama proud.
I don’t know what to say here. My dad is gone 19 years now. I had him much longer than you got your mom. I lost him when I was 22 so I know its not the same. But I feel your loss as I’m able. If you’ve read me for a while, you know I’m all about reflective writing. And what you did here was some incredible reflective writing.
What a beautiful tribute to your mama Robin! I remember you writing about her before, once again you brought tears to my eyes! And made me realize just how lucky I am to have my own mother. I guess most of us just take it for granted that our parents will always be there. And that we will be there for our kids too!
Hugs to you!
Beautiful post. It reminds me how fortunate I am to still have my mother..and my father.
Robin,
This was a lovely post. The sentiments were beautiful and the words you used really brought them to life. I agree you have an exceptional gift for painting pictures with your words.
Blessings!
What a beautiful and thoughtful post, Robin. To be able to see her life in such a way is gift.
Robin, thanks for choosing to do this post, even if it was as a prompt from another blog.
I didn’t see my mother as Super Woman growing up. I didn’t appreciate her as much as I could have until I was grown. Thank God for letting me have her long enough to realize that despite her mistakes, and other things, she is still my mother, and I do love and respect her. I’ve always felt like I needed to at least respect her no matter what we went through growing up. She did the best with us that she could or knew how to do. I appreciate that.
I’ve only seen in the last couple of years how much of a fighter she is because of the Lord letting her endure a car running over her. She was literally broken from head to toe. She fought like a champ with the strength that God gave her, and He chose to let her remain here, even to this day, even through what will be life-long complications. I have that kind of strength from her and my father. God knew I would need it.
Now, I thank God for the days, even the hours and minutes I have with God’s children that He has put me as steward over. I love these blessings dearly. I’d like to claim them (because I birthed them) as my own, but for many reasons, I cannot. I just know that because they are gifts from God, I should love them, appreciate the privilege of having them, nurture them, and raise them in the admonition of Him. Sometimes I don’t do as good a job as I’d like to with most of those things, but God, through me, sometimes does a beautiful job accomplishing them all. Those are the wonderful moments. I thank God for every moment that I have!
Didn’t mean to write a book. You got me going when it came to “the babies” and motherhood.
Robin, please take Stephen up on his offer…this is your destiny my friend, or at least part of it =) I think you are an amazing writer, someone “REAL”, that people can connect with! Go girl, you know I’ll cheer you from the side lines and be lifting your journey up to God with all that I have.
Robin- what an awesome post. Your Mama sounds like a great woman! She’d be very proud of you!!!
Shannon, thanks, friend.
Robert, thank you, too, for your always encouraging words :).
Karisma, gosh, I feel like a broken record, but I mean each “thank you” sincerely :). Thank you!
Hulagirl, I’m so thankful to serve as that reminder!
Ooops, I forgot about the second page!
Kelli, very kind words…they gave me reason to smile :).
Dianne, I think she might’ve been the one who GAVE me that gift!
Peculiar, you ought to re-write some of that as a post on your blog! VERY heartfelt thoughts and I can sense you working through some stuff. My relationship with my dad was more work; I had to learn how to honor him, and though we shared a love and affection, we were very different making it difficult at times. Your kids are PRECIOUS and you’re a GREAT mama :). One day they will grow up and tell stories on YOU!
Ebay, awww, friend…YOU lift me like few can :). I was already thinking of you this morning (as I was writing Tad’s party post) and I TRIED to scan your page from his book, but it kept messing up and I was exasperated). Thanks for your truthful feedback, I KNOW I can count on you as one who tells me what I NEED to hear, not what I WANT to hear (except in this case, it’s sho nuff what I’d want!!) :).
Beth, Thanks, sweets :).
Just a gorgeous, heart-felt post, Robin. Makes me wish that I knew your mom.
It was beautiful, not sad to read this post.
I lost my dad in a car accident when I was 9. Although the parental gender and circumstances are different how I have known many of the thoughts and feeling you mention in this post. In those short years together my dad did a lot to shape who I am and I would not be as strong as I am today or where I am today if it were not for him and the tragedy in which I lost him.
{{{hugs}}}}
I’m thankful for how she chose to live because of how it shaped you–and you are amazing.
Oh Robin.
Tonight, a dear friend of a dear friend of mine, Stephanie is dying from a brain tumor. She is 37. Her twins are nine. She too is an absolutely amazing woman.
I pray that her daughter and son will one day honor their mother as you have.
And it is encouraging, because you are so wonderful and loving and encouraging – just like Stephanie- that her children will be too.
Their names are Chase and Claire, and the end for us, the beginning for Stephanie, is real near. Please pray for them.
Love, Mis
What a beautiful tribute to your mother.
No words here, Robin…….you amaze me.
Just beautiful…….
Breathtakingly beautiful, Robin.
Thanks for reminding me to count my blessings.
Wow – great post. What an experience. It does make you treasure the moments you remember. I am glad you are able to get them on “paper” here so that we can share how special she was.
Wow – great post. What an experience. It does make you treasure the moments you remember. I am glad you are able to get them on “paper” here so that we can share how special she was.
She may not have had what we would term a fair amount of time on this planet, but it’s clear she used her time wisely to raise an insightful daughter. Thank you for moving me with your words, Robin. What a tribute to a remarkable woman who made the most with what she was given.
Robin,
I can so identify with your story. I celebrated my ninth birthday the day my Mama came home from the hospital after having surgery for breast cancer. And you’re right….the treatment back in the 60’s was so drastic! She lived until I was sixteen. She left a great legacy for me. I’ll never be able to be the great Christian woman she was…..but I try.
Thanks for sharing your story!
Marilyn in Mississippi
BS Sunday
By Jennifer…you know….Hailey’s Mom It is Sunday in beautiful Houston Texas and I’m Jenny (aka bloggess) and I will be your hostess for this morning’s blogshare. (Okay, I’m not really Jenny…it’s me….Mindy…but I’m trying to keep busy and preten…
BS Sunday
By Jennifer…you know….Hailey’s Mom It is Sunday in beautiful Houston Texas and I’m Jenny (aka bloggess) and I will be your hostess for this morning’s blogshare. (Okay, I’m not really Jenny…it’s me….Mindy…but I’m trying to keep busy and preten…
Just catching up on a few weeks reading here and wow – what an awesome post. Some people don’t have that power and some live forever although their corporeal effects are long gone. She truly lives, Robyn. Thanks for sharing.