Condolences to Lrod
- Doreen Peri
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Condolences to Lrod
Lightning Rod's mom passed away. I believe it was Tuesday evening. Sincere condolences to Lrod and his sisters and entire family.
Clay,
Your mom was very lucky to have you there caring for her these last couple of years, and especially during her last days. Peggy was a wonderful, talented lady with a huge spirit filled with love! I know how close you were to her and how you will miss her. She loved you very much and was so proud of your talents! (((hugs))) ... My sympathies for your loss.
-Doreen
Clay,
Your mom was very lucky to have you there caring for her these last couple of years, and especially during her last days. Peggy was a wonderful, talented lady with a huge spirit filled with love! I know how close you were to her and how you will miss her. She loved you very much and was so proud of your talents! (((hugs))) ... My sympathies for your loss.
-Doreen
- Lightning Rod
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Thank you Doreen
Here is a letter that I wrote to a friend upon the event:
Gene,
Mom passed yesterday evening at home. We had only moved her here from the hospital that morning. She was visibly glad to be back in her own environment. The hospice workers were very helpful. She had been home about six hours when she died. I was glad for her. Her existence had been miserable for too long. My picture of her will be forever young. It has been very hard to look at her in her shriveled and palsied condition these past months. She was so beautiful in life.
I had prepared myself for this event every day for two years. I'm amazed she held on for so long. She had ceased to be any semblance of the being she wanted to be, the person she saw herself as. When she went I had already bidden her farewell many times in my heart because she had been leaving little pieces of herself along the path for years like Gretyl trying to remember her way home. I had long been rehearsing the steps to the grief dance in my imagination, so the concrete event wasn't terribly sad or traumatic for me.
But when I had gotten over the shock of her actually dying and while I was waiting for the authorities to arrive from the hospice, I was overcome with this crazy urge. I knew they would come soon and carry her away and I would never see her again. No, no, the urge wasn't Oedipal. The urge was to paint a clown's face on her. I pictured her in whiteface with amazed eyes and a cherry nose and an exaggerated purple fixed smile. It wouldn't have taken much makeup. It was one of those shamefully wicked fantasies that makes you want to pimp-slap yourself around the room for even having it. But Mom would have appreciated that kind of gallows theater humor. She was always up for the next show. I probably would have done it too, if not for the presence of my sister who didn't inherit my mother's cavalier attitude toward life and death and spirit, and was at that moment sobbing uncontrollably over the empty shell.
My mother was too poor to afford a pauper's grave. She left this life carrying just what she came with. The medical examiner's office confiscated the body and grudgingly turned it to ash. They won't give us the ashes unless we pay for them. She would have laughed. When asked if she would like to be buried or cremated, she often said, "Don't fuss over my remains....just have a party."
Here is a letter that I wrote to a friend upon the event:
Gene,
Mom passed yesterday evening at home. We had only moved her here from the hospital that morning. She was visibly glad to be back in her own environment. The hospice workers were very helpful. She had been home about six hours when she died. I was glad for her. Her existence had been miserable for too long. My picture of her will be forever young. It has been very hard to look at her in her shriveled and palsied condition these past months. She was so beautiful in life.
I had prepared myself for this event every day for two years. I'm amazed she held on for so long. She had ceased to be any semblance of the being she wanted to be, the person she saw herself as. When she went I had already bidden her farewell many times in my heart because she had been leaving little pieces of herself along the path for years like Gretyl trying to remember her way home. I had long been rehearsing the steps to the grief dance in my imagination, so the concrete event wasn't terribly sad or traumatic for me.
But when I had gotten over the shock of her actually dying and while I was waiting for the authorities to arrive from the hospice, I was overcome with this crazy urge. I knew they would come soon and carry her away and I would never see her again. No, no, the urge wasn't Oedipal. The urge was to paint a clown's face on her. I pictured her in whiteface with amazed eyes and a cherry nose and an exaggerated purple fixed smile. It wouldn't have taken much makeup. It was one of those shamefully wicked fantasies that makes you want to pimp-slap yourself around the room for even having it. But Mom would have appreciated that kind of gallows theater humor. She was always up for the next show. I probably would have done it too, if not for the presence of my sister who didn't inherit my mother's cavalier attitude toward life and death and spirit, and was at that moment sobbing uncontrollably over the empty shell.
My mother was too poor to afford a pauper's grave. She left this life carrying just what she came with. The medical examiner's office confiscated the body and grudgingly turned it to ash. They won't give us the ashes unless we pay for them. She would have laughed. When asked if she would like to be buried or cremated, she often said, "Don't fuss over my remains....just have a party."
"... sobbing uncontrollably over the empty shell."
that empty shell is so accurate a description. upon seeing my own mother's empty shell some 20 minutes after she passed i was once again struck how mysterious the passing of life is and what we know as life simply leaves the body leaving that empty shell you wrote of... looking nothing like the life-filled shell it once was. your idea of the white face and red nose is rather 'gallow humorous' to the stark and empty face that no longer holds the life of one who lived within
for many years i've chosen 'passing' over the cold, unimaginative word 'death' which denotes such a finality as to dismiss the fact that those we loved and lived with upon passing, still leaves their memory alive within us for as long as we, ourselves, live until our passing.
accept my condolences, eLRod. it's evident you felt strongly for your mother.
take care, amigo.
that empty shell is so accurate a description. upon seeing my own mother's empty shell some 20 minutes after she passed i was once again struck how mysterious the passing of life is and what we know as life simply leaves the body leaving that empty shell you wrote of... looking nothing like the life-filled shell it once was. your idea of the white face and red nose is rather 'gallow humorous' to the stark and empty face that no longer holds the life of one who lived within
for many years i've chosen 'passing' over the cold, unimaginative word 'death' which denotes such a finality as to dismiss the fact that those we loved and lived with upon passing, still leaves their memory alive within us for as long as we, ourselves, live until our passing.
accept my condolences, eLRod. it's evident you felt strongly for your mother.
take care, amigo.
_________________________________
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Allow not destiny to intrude upon Now
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Allow not destiny to intrude upon Now
- SadLuckDame
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Your beautiful mother, thank you for shining her light here for us. My condolences too Lrod.
`Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty,' Alice went on...`when I saw all the mischief you had been doing, I was very nearly opening the window, and putting you out into the snow! And you'd have deserved it, you
little mischievous darling!
~Lewis Carroll
little mischievous darling!
~Lewis Carroll
- judih
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Philosophical, humourous, accepting - both you and your mother, clay - you've written an acutely human account of watching your loved one step away from life.
the clown face - the actual face - the heart, 'all ash, all ashes again' (as ginsberg commented over neal cassady's ashes)
i'm sorry for your loss. She truly was a gorgeous woman - may her genes grow fruitful
the clown face - the actual face - the heart, 'all ash, all ashes again' (as ginsberg commented over neal cassady's ashes)
i'm sorry for your loss. She truly was a gorgeous woman - may her genes grow fruitful
- stilltrucking
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yeah... welcomes and farewells are very moving and there are special ones where our heart´s motivos are inevitablemente in full display... Bravo for let them be and gracias for also sharing them with us l-rod!! (she´s so beautiful!!!! ) A big abrazo to you and best wishes for you taking care of yourself, amigo!
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- singlemalt
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So sorry to hear the news Clay. No matter how much you prepare, losing a parent is a strange, shocking, life-altering event.
My dad died four years ago at 67 years of age. We were sort of close, but not extremely close. I don't know how to explain it, but I think about him often. I had some strange dream about him a few days ago. It never leaves you.
My dad died four years ago at 67 years of age. We were sort of close, but not extremely close. I don't know how to explain it, but I think about him often. I had some strange dream about him a few days ago. It never leaves you.
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