Dear Friends, Muffins, and Fellow Motssers,
With quite a little grief, which I know you will share, I have to tell you my mom died yesterday morning. A week ago today she discovered she had bone cancer and a major incursion of pelvic tumors, all metastasized from a primary mass in her right lung. She spent her last two days in the most miraculous hospice a person can imagine, preceded by one last night in her own apartment, and in the final hours my brother and sister and I, together with all but one of the grandchildren and with all but one of the great-grand-children present, plus I can't begin to tell you how many of her finest friends, all did our best to help her leave behind that stricken and painful body.
She had had two near-death experiences in the last couple years, so she knew there would be light to follow as she set out on what she always said she was sure would be the greatest of all her great adventures still to come. The end was simple and peaceful. We felt such joy that she was at last released from pain and suffering in this life. At the moment of her death, the first rays of sunlight broke over what was in many ways a perfectly beautiful day in Minneapolis. I found great comfort in the idea that she would begin whatever came next at the instant another day was born.
There are dozens of stories to tell you, but of course I'm not really able to speak much right now, hence this short note. I'm doing OK, though, so no need to worry; when it comes to taking care of myself, I am after all a seasoned pro. It helps immeasurably that it's a bright cool day here in Madison. Though my grief is indeed heavy -- far more than I expected, really -- I'm not at all sorry or sad; my mom wanted to get out of this life, and I can hardly overestimate what a joy it was to me to be able to spend those final three days with her. Though she was in a lot of pain, she was clever, cheerful, lucid and very funny almost to the very end. Withdrawing from her life was not easy, but we all urged her to let go, and I know I had a very special role in that release. You can imagine how special that feels, I'm sure.
Mom's body was cremated immediately; she hated the idea of caskets, funerals, and all that grimness. There's to be a memorial service in the Twin Cities, we think this coming Friday; this, of course, is for the living more than for the dead.
She had the great wit to leave all her artworks to me, so I'm greatly comforted to have a dozen of her paintings here to look at as I ramble through the countless memories, associations, and upwellings of emotion all this occasions for me. I've had many too many blessings in this world, I'm sure, but the ones just now are about the finest I can imagine.
I'm hoping to write a longer piece about her soon, with special emphasis on her tireless fight for human dignity in a vain and selfish world. She was unremitting in her commitment to full freedom and equality for lesbian, gay, and bisexual people and in her countless struggles for the validation and empowerment of the people and cultures inhabiting this continent before the European invasions. She knew that love and respect for all living things was the compassionate key to dissipating all forms of hate, especially the bigotries of sexism and racism.
As for me, I'll begin my planned vacation from soc.motss in earnest now, overloaded as I am by these events and by the ever-growing queue of unanswered mail.
In the meantime, may all your own projects and aspirations
flourish and bear wonderful fruit.
