(The title is a nod to a book by Iyanla Vanzant)

On Thursday 8/31/06 I had an insight which was so profound that not only did I wake up the following Saturday thinking about it but that I asked Big I to surround me with conditions which would allow further insights to be revealed. This was Labor Day weekend so I had three days to settle into the experience. It was one of the best weekends I had experienced since separating from my wife on Memorial Day.

I was still energized when I returned to work on Tuesday. About an hour into the day my brother D called and told me that since Mom had not answered the door when the visiting nurse came by the apt mgr was called to open the apt at which point Mom was found dead on the floor in her bedroom.

I know this is telling - my response was to ask him to call me when he knew more (more of what?). He called back about 30m later and said that paramedics had arrived and determined that she was in fact not dead but unconscious.

She was taken to Brack where she spent seven days before being transferred to Texas Neuro-Rehab Hospital for about three weeks before being moved to the Skilled Nursing Facility (SNF) where she's been living ever since.

All of the tests done were not able to diagnose what exactly happened but it's likely she experienced a stroke.

On the Tuesday she was found I told my oldest brother S that I would not be involved in all the details of arranging for her care for a 'simple' reason - that since the 90s every time I felt that I was at a nexus point in my career a crisis in her life would come crashing into mine and derail that. Given that I was three months into my divorce, six months into the new job, and about a month into a new high-visibility project I made the conscious choice to not allow this to happen again.

This may sound extremely cold, particularly to someone who has something akin to a 'normal' relationship with their mother but the relationship I (and my brothers) had with both of our parents was anything but. Some light may be shed by knowing that the last time she had been in crisis she had called me as I was about to head to a project planning meeting, the first in my new role as a team lead, to tell me she was being evicted, didn't know what to do and so was thinking of killing herself. As you might expect this ruined the rest of my day. By the next day she was in high spirits, having made plans to move in with her mom who had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She never again mentioned her suicide threat or inquired as to how it may have effected me.

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Through the Fall we maintained the belief (illusion?) that with rehab she'd be able to regain her independence and move back to her apt. Around December it became clear that that was not going to happen - while she professed to want to move back to her apt she continued to isolate herself - she'd go to rehab and meals but refused to participate in any other activities. It was clear to us that if she moved back into her apt she'd be in crisis again within a month so in January we cleaned out her apt.

Since then she has continued to decline. Her isolation seemed to progress from physical to mental as well, she has been increasingly going someplace inward. The thought that she might be depressed occurred to us (she's had chronic depression most of her life) but this seemed to be something different. To me the most noticeable change was this Spring when she seemed less interested in her grand-children as time passed.

She also continued to decline physically - in August S noted that she was so weak that he had great difficulty getting her into and out of the car when they took her to dinner.

I had not taken the children to see her in several weeks and found out last week that she was no longer feeding herself. Several weeks prior S had begun the process of moving her into hospice, which is now culminating into her move into hospice this week. Apparently the hospice is run by a sister company of the SNF and share space with it so physically she'll be in the same building.

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This summer I've had the experience of discussing with five people (other than my brothers) my relationship with my Mom. Two were long-time friends, P and D, who've helped me on this journey the last fifteen years, the three others were new friends, AW, AJ and JR.

When I first told AW about my mom her response was "You have a lot of anger towards your mom." At the time I didn't know what she was talking about - I knew that our dysfunctional relationship went back to my infancy but thought I had forgiven her and moved on. I think this surprised me because I didn't (and still don't) consciously feel anger towards her.

It was when AJ made the same comment that I paid attention to my body and voice and realized that, yes, I was still carrying anger towards her.

Growing up Catholic and attending parochial elementary I of course was quite familiar with the 5th Commandment to "Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother". Looking back I think it may have been in the context of being taught this commandment that I became aware of something which confused me - do I love my parents? As a child this is a no-brainer - them being all powerful deities in one's life the question makes no sense. I think the reason I first felt confusion is that I didn't know what this love for one's parents was supposed to feel like.

At the age of forty I've experienced different types of love - love for my children, for my friends and for women in my life but if someone were to ask me "Do you love your parents?" the only honest answer I could give would be "I don't know" - I still don't know what it means when someone says they love their parents. This has been a source of a fair amount of confusion for me, both in terms of my relationship with my father (illuminated as it is by my relationship with my son) as well as towards my mother which is especially difficult given the position which Mother occupies in many (all?) cultural and spiritual worldviews.

I was introduced to the notion of reincarnation when reading Conversations with God years ago and for those who haven't read the book this includes the idea that we incarnate with 'agreements' or 'contracts' with other souls to play out different roles in order to create experiences which on a spiritual level we need for whatever reason. From this it follows that for reasons which I feel are still really known only to Big I I incarnated into the dysfunction which was my parent's family.

It was with this worldview and time that I felt that I was able to release my anger towards them and then to forgive them. It wasn't until listening to a Caroline Myss tape that I was introduced to the idea which seems obvious in hindsight - that on a soul level the next step was to offer to them gratitude for being willing to take on the roles they did which I needed for my experiences.

Intellectually I could see this as the logical conclusion of this worldview but emotionally I struggled with it for years - I didn't feel grateful at all. I suppose this was a good a sign as any that I hadn't finished releasing my anger after all.

I reached the point about four years ago where I felt that I could experience gratitude towards them when I began noticing that I was feeling compassion towards them, that from my perspective they had lived hard lives, lives which I would never want to experience myself.

Over the last year there have been several instances where I'd walk out of the SNF and sit in my car and just cry. I think some of it may have been grief over what I may have lost (if I ever had it) but more it seemed that I was grieving her life.

Over the years I've set the intention to be aware that I can never really "know" anyone's path, hell, I'm still trying to figure out my path but many times this last year I've felt that from my little i perspective she's failed in this life, if failure meant to heal from whatever wounding she experienced in this and previous lives. I experienced a lot of pain believing that if this was the case she'd have to come back and try again, and it'd probably be harder the next go around. This isn't something I wanted to feel, even if only out of a sense of karmic self-interest, but that's what I felt.

Some respite from this bleak picture was given to me last summer when my friend 'Oregon D' introduced me to Pure Land Buddhism, which seems similar to the Catholic notion of praying for souls in purgatory that they may enter Heaven.

I am grateful that even if this is what I would feel, I still set the intention that I Could Be Wrong because this morning I saw a new possibility of seeing her. Perhaps instead of being a wounded soul who would need another try at incarnation, she was really a Great Soul who created this life so that she could complete a great number of karmic contracts in one lifetime. This is of course unknowable to me but gives me more peace than the alternative.

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When I was recently discussing most of this with JR she asked me what positive or happy memories I could remember from my childhood. I thought about it for a while, long enough for her to exclaim "That's so sad." but it did get me thinking in a fruitful direction about what I would like to remember about my mom to balance the things I do remember which I would rather not.

Having spent a relatively small amount of time thinking along these lines this list I'm sure will grow with time.

* She was a great cook. As a child I don't think I appreciated this about her but I wonder if my appreciation of almost all types of food (boiled mutton and quiche being two of the few exceptions :-) ) which I discovered post-college is a result of this. I think it was during my college years she'd prepare cheesecake when I'd see her at Christmas because she knew I liked it. For about five to six years before she became too ill to do so she'd bake a wide assortment of exotic cookies and give them to her sons as gifts for Christmas. I'd stick mine in the deep freeze (a trick I learned with my candy as a kid following Halloween) and savor them throughout the year.

* She could sew like nobody's business. Again this was not something I appreciated as a child but as a parent I really liked the dress-up clothes she made my daughter and the Halloween costumes she made both of the children - you literally can't buy anything like that in a store. More than once when T was about two or three C2 would dress him in her old Snow White dress - it was amazing how beautiful he could have been as a girl. :-)

When C2 was a toddler my Mom made a small pillow case which somehow became C2's security 'blanket'. Once we realized how it had been repurposed Mom made several more which came in handy when the current one would, um, reek. :-)

Update: from as early as I can remember until I was about 12 I had a rabbit plush toy as my security blanket. I think the original incarnation may have been a toy given to me but I know that future incarnations were recreations she made from the original.

* In elementary school once a year we'd have a 'Field Day' in the Spring which consisted of various outdoor competitive physical activities which were alleged to be fun e.g. sack race, egg race, etc. I guess I enjoyed these the first three years but it was probably around my fourth year that I began to dislike this day and I know by fifth-grade I loathed Field Day. I'll grant that my perceptions weren't completely accurate but by then it felt as if I would always come in last which was perfect for fueling my already robust inferiority complex.

I remember coming home in fifth grade and bawling my eyes out and I remember her trying to comfort me, to assure me that none of it mattered, that someday I'd find my place in the world.

* And I suppose I still am. Even though the part of me that questions why I'm here, "What exactly is my value proposition?" as it were, is smaller than it used to be and the part of me which is willing to believe that I do in fact bring something to the table of Life is growing a little larger as I continue my journey I'm not at the point where I can celebrate my mother's life by celebrating mine. What I do know is that without me my children would not exist and for anyone who's ever had more than a superficial introduction to those amazing creatures that's all that needs to be said.

I've also come to realize (and remember when I forget) that if it were not for my experiences as my parent's son I would not be the father to my children than I am today...

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Earlier today I was thinking about how I'd describe my current state to my children if I was talking with them and realized what I'm feeling is something I call 'hopeful sad' - sad about the past but hopeful about the future.

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I had written most of the preceeding this morning and the rest this afternoon. After I was done I went to see her and read to her what I'd written. I asked if I had her permission to invoke the Nembutsu for her and she agreed.

Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha
Namo Amitabha Buddha

I then intoned seven times The Heart of Perfect Wisdom Sutra or Heart Sutra:

Om Gate gate, Paragate, Parasamgat, Bodhi svaha
Om Gate gate, Paragate, Parasamgat, Bodhi svaha
Om Gate gate, Paragate, Parasamgat, Bodhi svaha
Om Gate gate, Paragate, Parasamgat, Bodhi svaha
Om Gate gate, Paragate, Parasamgat, Bodhi svaha
Om Gate gate, Paragate, Parasamgat, Bodhi svaha
Om Gate gate, Paragate, Parasamgat, Bodhi svaha

I told her that I knew she had asked for my forgiveness in the past and that I could clearly tell her that I forgave her. I asked for her forgiveness for the grief I know I caused in her life.

I then asked if she was angry with me and she shook her head. I asked if she felt we had closure and she nodded her head.

I took her back inside and fed her. While doing this I chatted with two of her tablemates - Phil, a retired general practice attorney who was quite chatty and Janie. Janie kept giving me a look and I finally told her that she was giving me the look some woman give me when I try to meet them, the "Who the Frak are You and Why are you Talking to Me?!?!" look. This won me a nice smile from her. :-)

After I told mom goodnight I went to find "the Reverend", a retired black preacher who I've gotten to know a bit in the last year. As I was leaving the dining room a lady pulled me aside to tell me that he really wasn't a Reverend, that based on some of the things he's told the nurses ("C'mon sugar, sit on my lap") he was a dirty old man. I don't know what effect this was supposed to have on me, personally I'm kinda impressed. :-) (Seriously it wouldn't surprise me if he had said that but that doesn't mean anything - AFAICT he's experiencing some form of senile dementia).

It wasn't until I was outside that I realized I could have told her that there were only two types of men - dirty old men and those in training. :-)

Here, now, I am at peace.