In memory of...

Tomorrow will mark five years since my mother died.  Yesterday marked fourteen years since my husband's first wife had died.  In a few days, it will mark four years since my husband's mother died.  It's a bittersweet week for us.

In all the cases, the death was actually a bit of a relief because the dying was painful to witness, let alone to actually experience.  That didn't make the grief experienced any lighter or less significant for those who loved so intensely that the absence of that person was and is felt so keenly.  Dying is difficult for those engaged in that process; death is difficult for those left behind, still living, missing those who've died.

My husband always takes the time to reflect on what Sue meant to him, how they were married for 29 yrs, raising five children into young adulthood, and other aspects of their life together.  I think that this is very important to do, when Jerry feels like it.  I know that Sue is a huge part of his life; she was there for all of his Coast Guard career, a fair portion of his career at Mississippi State University, through all of the babyhood, toddler years, childhood, teens, and into young adulthood for their children; through all the joys and hurts and laughter and tears for their family together and their own families of origin thru those years, almost three decades of intimately knowing each other and loving and living their lives together as a couple. 

Those are times that continue to exist, even as they are in the past, because memories bring those experiences and emotions to life, yet again.

My mother lived nearby the last two and half years of her life.  Those were my favorite years with her.  I was able to spend time with her, get to know her and relate to her, both of us being adults.  We were able to make new memories and those are some of my most treasured involving her.

I've mentioned before that she died of congested heart failure and have explained what that is in great detail, so I won't dwell on it here; except to say that is the same condition her own mother had at the time of her death too.  Heart disease is prevalent in the maternal side of my family, with my uncle having had bypass when he was in his early thirties.  Diabetes makes a strong presence in both my maternal and paternal sides of my family, as well as the associated comorbidities like high cholesterol, high triglycerides, obesity, and other conditions that cascade into other health complications until the complexities become the main focus of daily life for those individuals, consuming them so much that depression often adds to the entire mess, bringing along with it a whole slew of dimensional anxieties that cannot be easily addressed as they are integrated throughout every other aspect of  their lives and those around them are affected in many ways as well.

Fortunately my mom was able to keep a well balanced perspective on life in general and her health particularly.  She did not become depressed, altho all the other conditions were present, including hypertension.  After her cardiac arterial double bypass grafting, a couple weeks before her death, mom had talked with me about the need to get my weight under control, because she knew that this very thing that she was then experiencing lay in my own future, not all that far away.

Yet even tho I knew that, I gained about another fifty pounds within the next six months and kept that weight on for the next five years.  This was despite the many attempts to address it.  This made me even more likely to develop the complications which high risk stage three obesity brings, as I was about 280 pounds and extremely frustrated with my failures to change my path for the future.

So seven weeks ago, I had bariatric surgery, electing to go with gastric bypass {Roux-en-Y, which also called RnY} over other methods of surgery.  I can tell a difference in the way my joints are relieved and no longer experiencing constant discomfort.  I breathe much easier, without quite as much constriction.  I have more energy, I'm sleeping better, and am not battling pervasive exhaustion.  This morning, when I stepped on the scale, I was about fifty pounds lighter than I've been for about five years.

I'm back to about the weight I was when my mother spoke with me after her heart surgery.  I know I've a long way to go yet.  This does feel like I'm moving in the right direction.  To me, this particular time feels meaningful in oh! so many ways.

Perhaps if you too are missing someone this holiday season, you can enjoy the memories and find your own meaning that will help to bring peace for you too.