When Great Trees Fall

Many dear friends show kindness in my grief. A few weeks ago a friend shared this poem as something that gave her comfort in the past year after she lost her mother to cancer. I share this here as I remember my mom, and so I will remember to read it again.

When Great Trees Fall
Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with a
hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. 
Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored,
never to be the same,
whisper to us.
They existed. 
They existed.
We can be. 
Be and be better. 
For they existed.

Remembering Love on Valentine's Day

They say birthdays and holidays during the first year of loss are significant times in one's grief. In this new season, I remember my mom in each holiday. We remembered her birthday just a couple of weeks beyond her funeral. And, then my son's 7th birthday was spent missing her presence amidst the gifts, games, and food.

Today is February 14th. A day where cynics and lovers alike swoon over red heart-shaped boxes of chocolate, where the price of flowers skyrockets due to high demand, and greeting cards and e-cards alike are shared with those with whom we share affection. And, today, like other holidays, I remember Mom's thoughtfulness and the way she loved me and loved others. She taught me much about love, real love. Not the store-bought t-shirt with the art-deco word Love on it, or the way some people love their cars. She taught me about selfless, sacrificial love. Love that goes beyond how you feel or how you think. It's the kind of love that speaks with actions, not words.

I've experienced love...from many people in my life, my family, my friends. I know what love is, and I know what love isn't. These are just a few of the amazing ways others have loved me, and the ways I hope to love others. Now, some of these things are things that mom used to do. And, although I believe these are ways she showed her love, I cannot bring myself to do some of the same things. But, there are many of these things that I can do, and honestly do, for those that I really love.

Love shares the last piece of your favorite treat. Love offers a beverage to every service tech that walks through the door to fix something in the house. Love opens her home to visitors and hosts coffee and danish to the neighbors before work on the front porch. Love grabs another person's cold hands and presses them against her warm hands and arms and face to bring them back to room temperature. Love goes out of its way to pick out a special thoughtful gift and personally deliver it with a hug. Love brings coffee to a friend because there's a BOGO deal at Caribou. Love takes you shopping for a dress and pays for lunch. Love thinks about friends' birthdays months in advance, purchases cards, writes them out, puts a stamp on each one, and leaves them waiting to be dropped in the mailbox just before the said event. Love bakes a pie for the neighbors just because. Love generously shares time and life to listen and sit next to, and hang out with, and talk or not talk. Love cooks dinner, does all the dishes, and doesn't complain or ask for help. Love washes the laundry, dries it, folds it, and sends it back to college in a neat pile. Love takes the car for an oil change and car wash and brings it back with a full tank of gas. Love sees the uniqueness of her beloved, and finds ways to celebrate it. Love frugally gathers fabric and sews clothing for children who otherwise would go without. Love pours out belonging, acceptance, forgiveness, and humility over and over and over again. Love wants to be near her beloved, but allows freedom to fly and experience the world and all the love that is in it. Love allows choice to love in return. Love sees others through compassionate eyes and Love's heart breaks when others are in pain. Love has known pain and fear, and gives and loves anyways.  Love wants to make the world a better place because she has known difficulty and hardship. Love serves others and hosts others and shares life with others. Love keeps her children close and looks over their homework. Love tries to shield her beloved from harm and pain, but allows them to feel it so they can grow. Love makes her kids wear seat-belts in the car and enrolls them in swimming lessons. Love gives away love because she has known love and learned love from others. Love shares in her life, love shares in her death.


1Corinthians 13:1-13 (NIV)
May each of you feel the deep love of God in your lives today. This is what I have to hang onto in this season of missing someone who really showed me how to love, and what love is.

As you wish...

Each season comes with its ups and downs, and for a long season I had experienced a pretty joyful season. I was hungry for God, and finding strength for the journey from what I thought was a calling on my life. Then, everything changed.

In the middle of December 2011, I was helping a friend with CD sales at concerts for his holiday group of musician friends, called SimpleGifts. I was thrilled to be having so much fun meeting people, talking about the music that I love, and just being around really great people.

I love the group so much, I planned some time away from work to travel around the Twin Cities with them for a week before Christmas. We started that week with a concert at my home church and I invited family to see the show. My mom & kids enjoyed the show immensely that night - and then the kids went home with her to spend the night as they had so many times before. I went out with friends that night and then home to rest. The next morning would be the beginning of the end.

My mom was scheduled to call me at 6:30am as she did every morning for accountability of her diabetes control. She didn't call, and as I called her - my daughter answered the phone and said "Grandma isn't waking up." Those words weren't unfamiliar to me, as she had had episodes of low blood sugar before. I woke my husband to come with me, in case he needed to attend to the kids, and without a shower or so much as a toothbrush, we rushed out of the house and drove 15 minutes.  As my husband and I arrived at my mom's house, walked upstairs to see her still asleep, I checked her blood sugar. If it was low, I'd know what to do. Get her some juice, a little something to eat, and get her back up to normal for the day. When the glucose monitor registered a high number, my heart sank. I couldn't fix this. I called 9-1-1.

I called my brother to meet us at the hospital, and he and his wife and I sat outside the ER waiting for some idea of what was going on. CT scan had shown she had a cranial bleed.  It wasn't an aneurysm, instead a hemorrhagic stroke. Funny, she was taking one aspirin a day and medication to control cholesterol so that she wouldn't get a clot - and she instead had a bleed. This bleed was so significant that the neurosurgeon told us there was nothing he could do. So, we waited with hope that she would awake and we could talk to her and tell her what was going on. Something in my spirit feared that this was the beginning of the end. The next decisions we had to make as we moved from the ER to ICU and to a regular neuro floor in the hospital were extremely difficult, but my brother and I felt we were on the same page, because Mom often talked about her wishes in these types of circumstances. In fact, I helped her to craft a healthcare directive (living will) and she had it notarized just earlier in the year.

My takeaway from this part of my journey with my mom's illness...take the time to talk with your loved ones about the difficult decisions they might have to make on your behalf. My mom was prepared. I was prepared. And, my brother and I were able to make the life and death decisions for her that honored who she was and what she wanted. This is my vow for my family. In the next year, I will take the time to write out and have notarized a MN Healthcare Directive. I will share it with my medical clinic and doctor, and will more importantly share it with my loved ones. This is a gift I will give to them, and then schedule to revisit and update it every couple of years.