I am missing my Best Friend
My eyes are red, swollen and teared up once more as I write this, my remembrances of my Mother and her death. My Mother passed away on November 10th, 2014.
2011 Christmas Time, I captured these two lovers, My best Friend, my Mother and My Father.
I thought I was stronger than what I am, and it hurts that I missed a lot as Mom laid on her death bed, this was all due to my experiencing a severely painful ulcer. I tried to pack up to go stay with Dad and spend time at Mom’s death bed and I was repeatedly stopped in my tracks as I went into cold sweats and severe stomach pain, stress… oh stressed out so bad. I tried to relax but yet my stomach demanded food all the time and still nauseous and severe burning in my stomach… hunched over I was packed but now only getting 3 hours of sleep at a time. I tried everything I could to ease it, the choice was see the doctor or go to the hospital, I chose to see the doctor. I worked myself into an ulcer during the past 3 months and the news of my Mothers dying brought the ulcer to a severe state. Things are getting a little better now, but still I am not well and I am trying to hold of on the Endoscopy until next month, to see if I can get better on my own. I wish I had more time with Mom at her at her bedside, but I was fortunate that I was able to be strong enough to ignore the pain a few hours at a time and spend a few hours at Mom’s bedside on Friday and a few hours on Saturday, thanks to some medications from the doctor. Several days later my Mother passed away… my husband held me as I wanted to drop to the floor with the pain of loss. Oh how I am missing my best friend, my world is missing one very special and loving person, my Mother.
Here is her Obituary from The Daily Camera: Click Here
My Sister created a beautiful video here it is:
The thumbnail (the picture before this video starts up) is Mom and me on Valentines Day this year. Mom was teasing me about my cleavage and kept trying to cover my chest up by holding the crochet shawl I made her, over my chest. lol
And my very talented Sister, Michelle Marasch Ouellette also wrote the most wonderful Eulogy:
Our mother’s eyes.
Our mother’s eyes were always trained on beauty, seeking it out in butterflies, flaming mountain skies, the English flower garden behind our Minnesota house or the faces of her children and grandchildren.
I am grateful for those eyes. They taught us to see.
For me, it was a warm summer’s day in Wappinger’s Falls, N.Y. Milty and I sat at a table, looking at an ant. Mom asked us to draw. Like most kids, I drew three circles, then, added some sticks for legs.
“No,” Mom stopped me. “Look, really look. Are those circles?”
I looked. I really looked. They weren’t. They were odd, imperfect, pinched at one end, round and flat at another, and they, in their imperfect form, were far more interesting and beautiful than circles.
This is a lesson that I am still learning – to see life as it really is and not simply as my mind forms it.
Our mother’s hands.
They never rested.
They shaped works of art: sculpted hard metal, molded soft clay, embroidered silk. They wiped childish tears, cleaned soiled seats, scrubbed grape jelly grins.
No, they never rested. They seemed made to clean, to fashion, to create.
Even late night, as we rested, gathering to watch a movie or play a game, those hands would be moving, cleaning, sweeping the floor, planning her latest creation, a grandson’s baptism gown, a new oil painting of a granddaughter or a hand-painted wisteria blooming on the walls of our history room.
Those hands changed us kids, gave us a work ethic, helped turn us all into artists in our own right.
Our mother’s mind.
As a child, our mother was an avid reader. She’d sneak a flashlight and books into bed with her and read all night.
She told me this story once and made me curious. What was there about reading that would make her do that?
So I checked out book after book after book, Nancy Drew and Mom’s favorite “Little Women.”
That summer changed my life. I became a reader.
I know for each of us, the story is different, but I can’t help thinking that Mom’s sharp mind helped guide us, making us what we are today.
Our mother’s heart.
Our mother’s heart was the bearer of love — a fierce love for us, her children, and for my dad.
She used to say she wished she could keep us in shoe boxes — she would love to keep us small. This used to scare me so.
She flew out to see me when my eldest was born. One night, he had such cramps that he howled and howled through the night. She took him from me, cradled him in her arms and sent me to bed while she rocked and rocked and rocked him right into the wee hours.
I think that’s what she wanted to do with each of us, when we had a pain in our hearts, our heads or our bodies — hold us in her arms and rock, rock, rock us gently through our dark, dark night.
This week, in the midst of all her pain, we wanted to return the favor and hold her in our arms all the way through her dark night.
She has made it through, and we are grateful. While we can no longer hold her in our arms, we continue to hold her in our hearts and thank her for all she created with those eyes, that mind, those hands, that heart.
I couldn’t have said it better myself… we have such great gifts of creativity, all of us siblings, we are all Artists now. I learned to and continue to seek out beauty all around me too. I see the beauty in people’s eyes… Mom taught me with her love of others to adopt those around me as brothers, sisters and parents, as she adopted people as Aunts, Uncles etc into our lives when we were kids.
Mom’s eyes were sometimes clouded with her being such a people person and the love of others, and she got hurt sometimes as she befriended some people who ended up hurting her and using her as she was such a giver. She’d call in tears as once again she was hurt by someone taking advantage of her generous nature or saying hateful things and lies. That I too have experienced… I have a lot of her in me, the good and the not so good, but I wouldn’t change a thing, she helped to mold me into the loving, creative person that I am today.
Not all of Mom’s lessons took. Mom tried to make me stronger, I’ve always been overly sensitive. As an adult I learned to cry in private, in most cases putting a strong brave face out for the world to see… however right now I am a weak little ball of mush, all too emotional to sensitive. Really, at this time, I don’t care who sees my tears, my pain and my broken heart. I cry as I write this. Mom always said, “Mariah, don’t cry…” I would try not to cry, but her saying that made me break down more, every time. She sensed when I was near tears, even before they flowed. During the rosary reading (the night before Mom’s funeral) I heard my Mothers voice in my head saying “Mariah don’t cry,” and of course I broke down worse and cried very hard. I think it hurt her deeply to see her child cry, and she was trying to make me stronger. During her funeral I again tried not to cry, as I was sure she was looking down on us… hey, what can I say it didn’t work. I have never cried so hard and hurt so… my heart is broken as I am missing my best friend, my Mother.
Love and hugs,
Your Teary Eyed Blogger, Mariah
PS: Sponsors, and Followers, please excuse my absence as I go through this most difficult time. My ulcer and my broken heart are slowly mending and I will be back soon as I can with the over due reviews, and some DIY projects too!