Amazing Grace

I played Amazing Grace for my mother at her Memorial Service. Of course, I did it in typical ~L fashion and used the version by Ladysmith Black Mambazo. It isn't a traditional rendition, but then my mother and I didn't have a traditional relationship.

I think we were bonded by something bigger. She referred to it as a mystical umbilical cord. We could tap into each other in profound and interesting ways.

I remember clearly the day she told my sister and I she had breast cancer. It was at the dining table in our kitchen. I was 15. She began by saying she didn't know how to say what she was about to say. I looked at her for a long moment and said "I know, Mom." She looked at me back for what seemed another long moment. She shifted uncomfortably and then gave a strained laugh and said "No, I am not pregnant." I watched her and said, "I know." She proceeded to tell my younger sister and I that she had tested positive for breast cancer. I took it well for the moment, because, I really did know. I knew she had cancer. I knew what that could mean. What it would mean.

She came out fighting, determined not to let it get the best of her. Life moved on. My sister and I graduated high school and left home. When I was in college, we found out that the cancer came back by moving to the bone in her torso. She had been in remission 6 years. She started going to MD Anderson in Houston.

She kept fighting. In 1993, I met M and we decided to marry the following year. My mother came to the wedding with a cane and neck brace. We tried not to acknowledge the shape she was in. After my wedding, she went back to the doctors after a self-imposed break. They did tests and informed her that her neck bones had deteriorated so much, they had no clue why on earth she was walking, or using her arms. That shook her to the core. She stepped up therapy.

My sister married, and within the first year found out she was pregnant. Everyone was thrilled. The treatments were working and Mom was able to do almost everything as before. She obsessed with her garden, she shared life with my Dad and welcomed her first grandchild into the world. Within two years, my sister and I ended up pregnant at the same time. My sister had niece #2 just 17 days before my son was born. Mom wasn't in town when G was born, but made it back the next day. I spent my first Mother's Day with my new son and my Mom.

I couldn't tell you with precision what happened when after that. Time flies and being a mother screwed my sense of time.

My mother began having problems again, losing some of her sight. We found out that cancer had moved to her brain. She endured surgery, which initially proved successful, although the doctor told us honestly that it only bought our family time. How much she didn't know. Nine months. Two years. No more than ten years, but more than likely somewhere between the first two guesses. My Dad set his sights on five years. Once again, I knew. This was the beginning of the end. I wanted to believe. I really did. But I knew. I think she knew too.

I got pregnant again the spring of 2005. I told them the instant we found out. I wanted something for Mom to look forward to, to perhaps live for... even if it was just a little longer. I miscarried shortly before week 7. We spend Mother's Day 2005 in a quiet and sad joy. I told Mom everything I needed to tell her. How I loved her. How she was my best friend. How I appreciated her and everything she did. I said all things in my heart and soul. She shared back.

In the Fall of 2005, I found out I was pregnant again. I knew this one was a keeper. By this time, I was helping out as much I could to care for Mom in this final stretch. Some days we would simply sit on the porch and hold hands, staring out into the garden she worked so hard to create. (I didn't really know just how much she could still physically see. I am sure she filled in the gaps with memory.)

She passed on November 15th, 2005. M, G and I were there when she went. It was peaceful for her. She fought for twenty years. TWENTY YEARS. Amazing. Amazing Grace realized.

So, needless to say, it's a bittersweet day. I am on the verge of welcoming child #2, grandchild #4 into the world. My Mom is here, in the way she can be. I miss her terribly. I can't think too much about it: G was up all night throwing up. He needs my attention. He needs *his* Mom. It's a wonderful feeling. :-)

Happy Mother's Day to all Moms out there. All of us deserve the celebration.