I had planned to ‘tough it out’ and not mention it, but I am going to be on the road for about a week. But it occurs to me that I may not be as tough as I think! So there may be some noticeable gaps or ….something, especially with ek out, and y’all deserve to know why. Though I will be around, and though I am sure the rest of the crew will do a great job when I can’t be..
My Mom is getting ready to pass over and I am heading up to see her for the last time.
This is one of those deals where it is not a shock, she has been ‘out of it’ for a long time, and it was only question of when not if, and it looks like the when is now. It is also one of those deals where her passing, at this point, will be more of a mercy than anything.
As a “tough guy” it will be tougher for me to deal with sympathy than with the the events, lol, I have known lots of death and, of course, have an ‘unconventional view of it.
This is a time of deep emotion, but not one of sorrow. This is a passage, and my last words to my Mom will be in celebration of her life celebration of her and passage, not grief for her not being around anymore. It is easier in her case, since she has not been around for a long time anyway.
So if I may be so bold, I would ask you in the comments to celebrate her life, and perhaps the life of all of our mothers, who bring life onto the planet, and who like all of us, eventually move on, rather than sympathize with ‘my loss.’
I will of course miss her, but this time is about her, not me…..thanks.
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who said goodbye to his mother last week. like your mother, his taught him many fine lessons and he and his large family celebrated her strength and wisdom incorporating the zacotecan rituals of their mexican heritage with the catholicism the family later adopted. i wish you and your mother some moments together of peace and comfort before your rituals begin. she gave us and herself a wonderful son. thank for her me.
This is a hard one, big life changer, ready or not. I know you are tough and all that but, don’t minimize your feelings or deny your grief, and do remember the joy and love. Come back, soon.
FOC
all parents, she managed to raise a happy functioning adult who could repay it by helping the world.
One thought, as long as you hold some lesson or issue that was hers, as long as you keep speaking for her point of view, she will never truly be gone.
Hang in my friend, we have your back.
boot camp. Tough times, but stay tough my man.
It was better for my dad when he went, so I know how you feel.
The good times will be with us forever.
((((((buhdy & family)))))
My thoughts and prayers are with you mom, you and your family. May the Goddess protect her and you. Blessed Be
with our love.
Its never easy.
my thoughts are with you and your family,
KC
buhdydharma
i send peace and joy to you and your mother. may her journey thru the bardo be swift.
May the Blessed Ones lead her
from the unreal to the real.
from darkness to light.
from mortality to immortality.
a sunset off to somewhere…
Namaste
Looking forward to hearing you yell when you get back…
Intellectually, I knew it was time for her to go when she did a few months ago. Emotionally the process has taken me much longer than I anticipated.
She just knew me so well. I felt a bit like I was adrift in a sea of strangers in my every day life for quite some time after she died. Sorta like my intimacy umbilical cord with the whole universe got snipped as well. Anyway. I am just letting it heal on its own.
Have a box of hugs n kisses for your trip from little old me.
on Mother’s Day, the whole issue of “mothering” is a complex one in my life.
But we all know that when it comes down to it – we wouldn’t be here without them. So goddess bless them!!!
Safe travels to you Buhdy and I wish peace for your Mom.
i wish her joy & wisdom in the next steps of her journey…….
(& kisshugs & happy memories for you & yours!)
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone.”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”
And that is dying.
– Henry Van Dyke
All the best to you, friend. I said goodbye to my Mom last month. Remember, even though it often feels like you’re alone, you’re really not.
The hard part comes later, much later. Hugs and kisses to you and your mom.
remind her she has friends, and to get a table up front near the stage and order a round, and the rest of us will be along to join her soon enough, eh? 🙂
keep us strong, even long after they have journeyed beyond our physical grasp.
I Will Come Back … Pablo Neruda
Some time, man or woman, traveler,
afterwards, when I am not alive,
look here, look for me here
between the stones and the ocean,
in the light storming
in the foam.
Look here, look for me here,
for here is where I shall come, saying nothing,
no voice, no mouth, pure,
here I shall be again the movement
of the water, of
its wild heart,
here I shall be both lost and found –
here I shall be perhaps both stone and silence.
The tough guy quality is usually a result of a mom who told the truth, & did not protect you from reality, but allowed you to have yours.
Whether you can communicate this to her or not, many here besides me, have moms on the other side that will show her the cool spots & hangouts.
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See ya soon!
and most of all, for your mother.
I lost my mother two weeks before Xmas, and it has only been in the past couple of weeks that I’ve started crawling out from what I realized was a blue funk. Not sad, not “down”, but just … unmotivated. Be strong and know you’ll go on, and say goodbye if you are able to (my mom was dead by the time I got to New Jersey). We’ll behave in your absence.
death can be a celebration of life, of life lived with love and meaning.
All the best to you and your mother on this very important stage of your journey.
Also, still, take care of yourself.
I guess I really will be late for my own funeral. C’est la vie!
My Mom’s dying process, 33 years ago now, was a beautiful, sad, joyous, wonderous, poignant revelation of great mystery.
I still miss her. She was my best friend. Yet everything is as it should be.
One of the toughest things in life to do. Be well my friend.
She passed away in mid 2007. Weird how that is. Some little thing happened that I thought she’d find interesting. I made a slight move towards the phone before I remembered.
I’ve just come here, too, buhdy!
If she has been “missing” for some time in life, perhaps, saying “goodbye” will not be so difficult, because undoubtedly you’ve been saying it to yourself for a while now, with the knowledge you had!
Have a safe trip! Bring your mom a flower, hand it to her and hold her hand — and we’ll hold yours!
Hugs! Courage!
Take care of your Mom and take care of yourself.
May your mom’s transition be peaceful, and may you be sustained by your good memories of her life.
We celebrate her life, and we celebrate her son who has touched so many of our lives with such grace.
Where life begins again in a better world than this.
Lay down,
your sweet and weary head.
Night is falling.
You have come to journey’s end.
Sleep now, and dream
of the ones who came before.
They are calling,
from across a distant shore.
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see.
All of your fears will pass away.
What can you see,
on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
a pale moon rises.
The ships have come,
to carry you home.
Dawn will turn,
to silver glass.
A light on the water.
All souls pass.
Don’t say,
We have come now to the end.
White shores are calling.
You and I will meet again.
Way to go.
You’ll see her again, in another life. And you’ll always have her love, in this one.
love and peace to you and your mom. Among many wonderful things I’m sure she did, one was: grant you this life time!
i am grateful for the mystery of it.
that we don’t know keeps possibilities open.
for me, 14 years and sometimes i just want to know what the fuck is the phone number for where she is because sometimes i just need to talk with her. even after all this time, it can feel desperate. and yet, i’m glad to feel it. i’ve never let her go.
peace.
People told me when I lost my mom back in 1994 that it would probably take me a year to move past the loss. They were right.
For a year, every day, and several times a day, I had a huge sense of grief that washed over me, just like a big ocean wave. Could be anywhere, anytime, just out of the blue. I figured out fast that these occasions were just going to happen, and there was no sense trying to fight it.
A year went by. One day, I realized that for perhaps a week, a huge wave of grief had not washed over me.
Wishing the best for you and your mom and family in the midst of these difficult times.
because when our parents die, it is our journey too.
mine both died, 11 months apart, a few years ago, but still too fresh to say more.
My mother had alzheimers and her passing was a blessing.
Peace to you and yours.
It’s always harder than you think, even when the going is expected, and a welcome release. Suddenly, no matter how big a burden of concern for the one you love is lifted, you get to move immediately into how your own world is now poorer – and lonelier, even though you’ve missed her already for awhile. Don’t try to be too ‘strong’. Grief is something best experienced in its own time rather than stowed away for another time.
Best to you in this trial.
prayer does not always need words- my heart goes out to Buhdy and his mother. I pray for her peaceful transition from this life into new life.
William Blake
Your situation reminds me of my own almost exactly one year ago. Following an extended period of decline, I learned that my dad’s time was short, about a week before his passing on July 3, 2008.
The larger than life figure I had known for so many years had gradually faded to the extent that we weren’t able to carry on a two-way conversation for well over a year. I tried to reassure myself that much of the grieving had already taken place as the end approached, but soon discovered that there was so much of this process that had been impossible to begin until the end had come.
No matter what happened in my life, I always knew that he was there, and would do whatever he could if I ever needed him. The sense of reassurance that this provided, even until the end, suddenly became known to me as I could not avoid recognizing this profound loss. There was a powerful sense of a immense void in my life and the realization that my world would never again be quite the same. There have been many, and at times unexpected moments, when humorous and/or touching memories have made themselves known to me.
If you discover that the journey becomes more difficult than anticipated; please do not feel obligated to go it alone. Granted, we each have to proceed in our own unique way and at our own pace — a roadmap that works for someone else may not necessarily be what we need. However, the comfort and understanding of others can do much to counter the sense of loneliness that can sometimes loom large.
Your mother is truly fortunate to have such a caring son and as others have commented, she must have done a wonderful job to have raised someone who obviously cares so much about others. Please know that many of us will be thinking about you and your mother during the days that lie ahead.
Here is a song that, to me, best captures my own sense about my dad’s passing from this world. My hope is that it might provide some comfort for you as well.
The tune is derived from Dvorak’s “New World Symphony”, said to reflect the spirituals that so impressed him during his time in the United States (1892-1895). I have attached two versions, the first, in part, because the lyrics appear on the screen and the second, because Paul Robeson does a memorable job with this song (his life story on wikipedia is absolutely fascinating as well):
for 26 days when my darling wife was told she had three weeks to live.
I lived with her in Hospice, never leaving her side except for coffee and bathroom breaks, I was so afraid she would pass without me being there – her only request was that she not be alone when she died.
Tell her you’ll miss her terribly.
Don’t be afraid to cry in front of her.
Ask her if there’s anything she wants done, or said afterwards.
Tell her you’re going to be alright, even if you feel like you won’t.
These are a few of my regrets, things left unsaid because I was trying to “man up” and not show her my enormous grief.
Try your best not to have too many regrets a few months down the road. Grief therapy is a wonderful experience – highly recommended.
Love you man – I’m sending positive vibes, and hoping that broken glass feeling in your belly diminishes after an appropriate amount of time passes.
Serenity,
Tim
My heart goes out to you…
I still miss my mother…and my Dad even after all these years. It is a loss that will be with you forever.
Take care and be strong.