Happy Birthday Mom

Today is my mother’s 59^th birthday.

She would hate that I told you all that. That she’d be almost 60. But if Mom knew this would be the 7^th birthday she never got to celebrate, maybe she would feel different about it. I am sure she would embrace getting older instead of resenting it like she had so many times. There are a lot of things I am sure Mom would have done differently if she knew her life would be ending at the young age of 52. But then again, wouldn’t we all if we actually knew how much time we had left.

I still can’t help thinking though, how much would Mom have changed from her life. How much would she have liked to do over, if she had the chance? Of course, I want to say nothing, that her life was lived exactly the way she had wanted and hoped for. But I’m doubtful that was the case.

Born in 1954, she grew up l ike most kids in the city (Montreal). She became THE biggest Beatles fan in her early teens and THE biggest hippie in her late teens with a wardrobe I still fantasize about today. When I reflect back on her whole life, although I didn’t know her then, her late teens were probably the only time she really lived. No, not just because she did drugs, listened to White Rabbit and Janis Joplin and attempted hitchhiking to Woodstock. But because she lived like most teens do. Mom for once lived for her self.

Mom got married at 19 to my Dad, the boy next door (only in the fact that he actually lived next door) who she had known all her life. They moved to the burbs where she took the title of Housewife and had both Jason & I by the time she was 25. They owned one car, which my dad took on his long work road trips, so we walked everywhere! Even though I was only about 4 years old, I can still remember walking the 12 blocks to the grocery store and then back again every week. Then walking about the same amount to Zellers, where we’d get school supplies and a new outfit for the first day. For me, these were happy times. How were they for Mom?

Mom never took a day off. NEVER. Every morning she would make the 2 of us breakfast, have our clothes laid out, have our lunches packed, walk us to the bus stop, feed the dog, do the laundry, clean the house, do the shopping and make dinner. Everyday. Having little money, it was a big deal to eat out. A birthday or anniversary was the only viable excuse for spending that extra money. And ordering pizza was a celebration, one that came only a few times per year.  Jay & I used to think pizza night was a gift to us. Little did we know it was for Mom as she was actually able to take the night off. She would still set the table, serve everyone, clean the dishes and get us washed up for bed mind you, but at least she didn’t have to cook. That must have been nice. Were these happy times for her?

When I was 12 and finally able to take notice, I did realize Mom wasn’t so happy. After 18 years of marriage, she told my Dad she was not in love him anymore. He was always on the road and her kids needed their friends more then they needed her. At 38 years old, Mom woke up and realized she no longer had a place. Were these happy times for her?

Mom bought a little house with her Mom on the other side of town. Being a housewife for the past 16 years, Mom had a lot of trouble finding a job. She went on Social Assistance and cleaned houses until her fingers literally bled in order to pay the bills. An apartment would’ve been more affordable but she wanted Jay and I to have a house and a yard.  Were these happy times?

Mom had trouble finding love after Dad. She seemed to meet one poor mate after the other for the first few years. Then settling down with a man poorer than she. But he treated her kindly. Was she happy then?

In 1996, at the age of 42, she found the lump. Although the size of a ping pong, this lump had the ability to shape the rest of Mom’s future. Mom had a lumpectomy with rounds of chemo and radiation. The standard for a typical Stage 2 breast cancer patient. What wasn’t typical was that she would go to her chemo treatments and then go to work afterwards. Mom never acted sick. Was that for us or did she really not feel sick?  She hardly lost any hair; I don’t even think you would take notice that she had cancer if you didn’t know. So with out any doubt, she beat the cancer and was in remission. Were these happy times?

Her relationship failed soon after that and it seemed she was back on the market for men that treated her poorly. And although she did get hurt in the end, was she happy in between?

Her cancer came back in 2002 with a vengeance. They found 5 tumors on the spine and gave her a life sentence of 18 months. Mom, although she didn’t often show it, was a true Taurus and was not about to sit back and die. She fought. She had to stop working her office job, as she was required to be at the hospital daily. She came to know hospital staff and fellow patients by name. And although this time lost all her hair, we made wig shopping a fun girls date, laughing at all the ridiculous hairstyles. After a year and a half of taking on what ever drugs the doctors threw at her, Mom was doing well.  Not cancer-free but the tumors were gone and she had surpassed her alleged death-sentence. Were these happy times?

Mom ended up meeting a man. A hard working, family oriented, loving man. And although Mom was far from her prime, he loved her. And she loved him. Were these happy times?

The cancer stayed away, or at least dormant, for 13 months. But Mom then grew immune to the medication she was on and it was no longer affective. Mom again tried anything the doctors suggested but the cancer was starting to spread. On March 7, 2006 the doctors told her there was nothing else they could do. The next day her mom died. These were definitely not happy times.

Mom still fought while she grieved. She turned to some alternative treatments however, it seemed too far along. Water was filling her lungs and she would continually need them drained. You would think she was bed-ridden and knocking on death’s door. Well, unfortunately for you, you never got to meet my mom.

My brother got married in August and my mother made sure she would be there. Not only was she there and looking radiant in her turquoise chiffon dress, she burned a hole in the dance floor!! There wasn’t a song she sat out. These were happy times.

It was October 31. I had spent the night at the hospital on a cot at the foot of Mom’s bed. Mom was on oxygen full time now. It was early, before everyone got there that Mom turned to me and asked without any tears “am I dying?”

Unsuccessful at fighting back my own, I replied “yes. Not right now, but soon.”

Mom said okay.

As everyone arrived that day, Mom asked to speak with each one privately to say her goodbyes. All of her family, even her Dad from Ottawa and her brother Mike all the way from Vancouver, were by her side that day. And those that couldn’t make it, she made time to call. After she had spoken to everyone, it was late and she was exhausted. She said she wanted to go to bed. Mom never woke up the next day. Her body held on until mid-afternoon with again all of her family by her side. The time growing and growing between each breath leaving us without our own until she breathed again. Longing for that sign that let us know we were not yet alone but so saddened by the struggle she had to go through for our comfort.  It was only once we told her we we're okay, that she could go because we would all be okay, the time between her breathes became infinite.

Death is of course seen as a sad event. Probably the saddest. However, can there not be happy times in death? I mean, if we were able to die the way we wanted, would that not be a good thing? Having the time to share your thoughts which each of your loved ones and tell them all that you love them deeply. Knowing so many of us will never have this opportunity, wouldn’t that be a happy time?

On Mom’s 59^th birthday, reflecting on the life she lived, I am saddened that things didn’t always go her way. I am saddened that she had only been on a plane 3 times and her idea of a vacation was taking me to my soccer tournament in Ottawa. I am saddened that she had so much heartache from all those men and am saddened that her favorite place to shop was the thrift store. It may not have been the life she always wanted but that is why I take comfort in her death, knowing it happened exactly the way she would’ve liked.