Long story short, my parents had been separated for 20+ years (never being able to settle on a divorce), and had a volatile relationship during those years, and in the end, both of them recalled on their death beds, in their own tender way and tinged with their own regrets, how they met and their wedding day. I have yet to understand the nature of their relationship and why this lifetime was such a struggle for them both. All I know is that love can be fierce… and even on the flip-side of anger, that fierceness is there and linked with love. The sad part for them both is that so much perceived anger was pushed down over the years, communicated between eachother as reaction after reaction, doors slammed, feelings hurt, on and on. My 3 younger brothers were caught in the crossfire, and my older brother and I couldn't leave home fast enough. I have a very strong feeling that their aggressive cancer was a result of this anger, and even though regrets were expressed leading up to their deaths, by then may have been too late.
My Mother was a 'collector' of beautiful things. The expansive nature of this scenario is that she had a very serious case of OCD along with a very large emotional gap she was trying to fill. Her compulsion to collect knick knacks led her to having a house, 5 storage lockers and an apartment FULL of collected items, all of which we have been left with and which my younger brother and his wife generously volunteered to sell off over time. In the end, Mom let go of some of her special things, slowly and gracefully at times, not so much so at other times, and the last week she spent in hospital, she had nothing of her personal belongings with her except her pajamas, which she told me to take away. She had completely let go.
My Father had very few belongings along his death journey… essentials. Hospital living provides very little space… access to a drawer and table top, at the most, if one is bed-ridden. Dad had some special books and some crystals which I brought to lay on his chest as a daily ritual for healing. Every day, I would bring my little crystals, and lay them on his chest and he would also hold one in his left hand, which he had lost function in. I would sit with him for a few hours like that and we would talk about everything under the sun, which also include the Sun, the Universe, the Great Beyond, where Dad came from... his experience of when Atlantis sank (he was there and remembers it very clearly), and his childhood, growing up and adult life stories. We had the best talks... and then again, he and I have always had the best talks... highly spiritual and so very inspiring and energizing.
I spent a total of 9 weeks in the hospital with both my parents combined, on a daily basis. If I never set foot in another hospital for a good, long while, that is fine with me. It is a distracting place, too sanitary, all kinds of people with all kinds of ailments. My heart would break on a daily basis, making eye contact with people in the halls, in their rooms, faces paled by pain and illness...loved ones coming to hold their hands. Nurses, some with soft voices and soft manners and some with a hardness that repels. I came to love those soft spoken ones, with a slight sense of humour...like a mother or sister. They made such a big difference in the day-to-day. I am grateful for these loving souls.
My parents were not big drug or hospital people, my Dad didn’t want any morphine whatsoever, and my Mom was given just the tiniest amount and it hit her like a freight train. She had much more pain than Dad did… the large tumours in her abdomen swelled quickly and began pressing on her inner organs, eventually causing her to hemorrhage internally and shut down her kidneys, causing the fluid to migrate into her lungs. My Dad had a very rare, very quick spreading spinal tumour that metastasized into his lungs, collapsing one which was remedied by a chest drainage tube, and eventually after a course of radiation, there was internal bleeding for him as well. He became toxic and went into hypoxia and never awoke after his last breakfast.
I have been dancing all around 'the cancer thing' for years now, as a Nutritionist and in my studies and research I have come across numerous books, sites, and videos of people curing their cancer with natural remedies and therapies. I even attempted to open a non-profit society for those people, upon hearing their diagnosis of cancer, to have a place to stay to process what their next actions would be… all the while surrounded by loving individuals, music, drumming, dancing, healthy food and others in a similar situation to talk to about their feelings. The bureaucracy of achieving charitable status was a huge deterrent for me… a square box the government required me to put my very rounded project idea into, and the whole project began to lose it’s shine after too much trimming and was dropped. It just wasn’t the right avenue for what I wanted to achieve. Perhaps some road will open for it one day… I still think it is a very valuable project. When one is presented with the fact that they are going to die, even though it is the case for all of us and we somehow forget that, life changes. Drastically. How are we supposed to hold this knowledge on our own? We need community. My project was all about community and holding eachother, with the knowledge that yes, we are going to die. How do we now shape that for and with eachother?
I often question the choices my parents made with regards to their 'treatments'. Would I ever chose that route? My heart says NO after seeing what I saw. My Mom chose chemo and actually did really well on it... surprisingly well. My Father was encouraged by his doctor after his tumour returned, to have it radiated, and he chose a 3 week, daily treatment option. Because his tumour was so rare, he was also being closely monitored… a case study of sorts. I didn’t realize until later that he knew this, and he was offering himself to the study… as a way to help the doctors learn what worked and what didn’t for his rare tumour. After an earlier surgery to remove the tumour, he had a one-of-a-kind, newly fangled contraption called a ‘squirrel cage’, made of titanium, holding his upper spine together. It was a miracle that he could even walk after the surgery. He lost alot of motor function and had extensive nerve damage from his chest down to his toes, however, he could walk. He walked for 6 months until one day he fell down and had a very hard time getting back up. His Soul-companion of 9 years, Maureen, who was living with and caring for him during those 6 months, called his doctor and the next day brought him to emergency to have a scan. That scan revealed his tumour had returned and was growing fast. So fast that he would be completely paralyzed within months. He lasted two months… and was almost completely paralyzed in the end.
I had a deep yearning, the whole time my dear Dad was in hospital, to take him home and nurse him myself. I even had an initial plan for him to spend the winter with me on the West coast, flying him from Alberta. I had the electric hospital bed, and the cane, and all the plans… but then he fell, and landed in the hospital, so I went to be with him there instead… for two wintery months I walked, bussed, caught rides… whatever I had to do to be by his side on a daily basis. You couldn’t have torn me away from him. I was committed to be beside him until the end, and I never knew when that end would be… even though I tried in my super-human way to make plans, every single one would fall through as something would shift or change for him. So, I surrendered to go with the flow. After three weeks of being in Edmonton at the very busy and chaotic Cross Cancer Institute, however, both Dad and I were ready to go home. We had plans, and the nurses and doctors were setting it up for Dad to be released to his home-town to rest and be comfortable in palliative care and stop being tested, radiated and poked and prodded… and then his condition shifted drastically one morning as he began hemorrhaging internally and the next evening, he died.
Shortly after his death, I had a dream. I was nursing him by myself, in his home. Because of the huge amount of work nursing someone takes, we didn’t have time for all of our awesome conversations, and all our time was spent changing diapers, linens, preparing food… and Dad was not too happy about me wiping his butt! The interesting thing is that the sequence of events was identical… the cold setting into his lungs and turning into pneumonia, the collapsed lung, the chest tube insertion, the paralysis, the internal hemorrhaging… it all still happened. His death still happened. There was nothing I could have done to shift the course of how this was all going to play out for him, because it was destined to play out this way… and I woke from this dream with a strong feeling that all was as it was meant to be. I felt more at peace after the dream, though still deeply grieving the loss of my IDEA of the perfect death for my beloved Father.
After having him cremated, I flew back home to my family, and was only home for a month and a half when my brothers and I learned that our Mother’s cancer had returned. She also, about a year or so prior, had surgery to remove an aggressive tumour within her uterus. She had a complete hysterectomy, as well as removal of some of her surrounding inguinal glands, followed by radiation of the area and a round of chemo. Her one-year follow up showed that she was ‘clean’. When my Dad was in the hospital after his fall, I remember visiting with Mom, and she was very stressed and not looking so good… kind of grey in the face. When Dad went to the Cross Cancer Institute in Edmonton for those 3 weeks in November, Mom had an appointment there as well for a check-up, which she missed because of snowy weather. Had she gone at that time, I bet they would have revealed that her cancer had returned and she would have been admitted for treatment. By mid-January, she was on the edge of death when we learned about what was going on for her, which she was withholding from us because she was worried it was too soon after our Dad’s death (Nov. 29th) and that we were still heavily grieving. We were, and yet she was in a very grave situation and we had her rushed to the hospital with the help of our youngest brother and his wife who lived close-by. They stayed with her there for a week until the rest of us could fly out and drive up. Mom had indeed almost died, and she had two very large tumours in her abdomen, some spots on her lungs, two thirds of her kidneys had failed, her adrenals were being pressed by the tumours and she had a bladder infection and blood clots in her leg. A blood transfusion perked her up enough to have some quality time with her family and get her plans in order, however, the doctors gave her a prognosis of 2 weeks to live.
She was doing so well for a bit, that we were able to take her to her apartment and care for her there for a week. She very quickly declined however, and her brain was getting more and more scrambled and her communication more cryptic (mini-strokes?). She would ramble on for ours and none of it would make sense. Mom has always been a talker... a 2 hour phone conversations would consist of a dozen Um hum's and oh's from the other person on the line... and that's just how she was. And in the end, it was non-stop for her as well... until it got so jumbled and even she was having a hard time getting the words out. That week was a very challenging, super-emotionally draining, dark week for my brothers and I. Mom's appetite declined severely and she was having a very hard time eating and we spoon feed her because she was becoming too weak to sit up or get out of bed. As soon as she couldn’t make it to the washroom on her own anymore, we all agreed she needed to go back to hospital. She lasted one week longer until her kidneys shut down, and the tumours filled her abdomen completely, pressing into all of her organs.
Mom was on a very low dose of morphine and way more lucid than Dad was at the end. There was another drug she was on too, I forget the name. It calmed her brain down enough that she was able to speak again in a way that we could understand her and she told us each some very sweet things before she died. She asked my forgiveness, because I was so young and left to look after my brothers all those years ago. I told her of course I forgive her and that I loved her and was so grateful to have had this time with her. All of my brothers also told her they loved her and that they were ready to let her go.
She was opening her eyes and making small response sounds until just before she left her body. My brother and I each had a hand on her shoulders, one on each side, as if we were guiding her… up through the almighty death canal… she was held in love, my other brothers around her as well. She had the death grimace a few times, like Dad did, and her breathing softened so gently, with a slight gurgling from the fluid in her lungs. I felt so filled with love for her as she was dying, such relief filled my chest because it was such a gentle process. We removed the oxygen tube from her nose as her breaths got further apart, and within a couple minutes, she tried to draw a few breaths from deeper down, winced very deeply (perhaps at the exact moment her heart stopped beating), and that was it. She died just after 11am on February 11th. We stayed around her and the tears fell for a time, all of us quiet. I put my hand on her chest… her heart chakra...and the heat was still there, even after a couple hours of us in the room, sharing stories and experiences about Mom. It was a tender moment, leaving the room for the last time, leaving the womb that birthed us all, behind.
My Father passed very similarly, his last breaths after the oxygen had been turned to it’s lowest setting, a few deep ones, the grimace, and then the last breath. After a few minutes of gazing in disbelief at his unmoving chest, I turned to my oldest brother and let out a keening wail into his shoulder as he held me. I didn’t know I could even make that sound. My heart absolutely broke when my dear ‘ol Dad left his body. I felt like part of my soul had been ripped away as well. I still feel that way. I have loved that man fiercely, all my life. He was and forever will be my hero.
Despite my parents’ drama and separation over the years in this life, I had a real sense that they were very old souls and this lifetime was a powerful one for them, leaving them both with some continued karma to deal with, however, they did make an effort in the end with their attempts to resolve some of it for themselves, if not with eachother. My Dad leaving my Mom in his Will was a compassionate gesture on his part, and my Mom finding some acknowledgement and forgiveness because of that gesture. Before I had heard the news of Mom’s cancer returning, and just after my Dad’s death, I had a dream about the two of them. It made no sense to me at the time, and didn’t until the evening that my brother told me the news about Mom’s health situation. In the dream, that same brother and I were making some sort of plans that we were excited about, and we had one question for Dad. I looked around and saw him lying there in a hospital bed, so I approached. As I did so, I happened to notice that Mom was there right beside Dad, also lying in her own hospital bed. They were both having a very heated discussion and paid me no notice. I approached Dad and asked him the question, to which he didn’t respond. He only looked at me very gravely, like I was interrupting something very, very important that had nothing to do with me. I caught the hint and moved away, leaving them to continue their intense conversation. I awoke rather confused by the dream scenario. Weeks later, on the phone with my brother telling me the news about Mom, I got a chill from head to toe as the dream came back to me. I stopped the conversation to share the profoundness of the dream and it left us both speechless for a moment. I never told Mom about this prophetic dream, nor did I have any intention to. Again, I was left with the feeling that the way this was all playing out was part of some much larger plan.
The closer to death Mom approached, the less fear she had. About four days before her death, my Mom told my oldest brother “I can’t wait”. Can’t wait for what? he asked. “I can’t wait to die”. And only weeks before, she was filled with fear, and wondering if she would be accepted into heaven, or if she’d be going to hell. She sure hoped it would be heaven, she said. She also mentioned to me one evening about a man standing by the mirror in her hospital room. This was a few days before she died. She said the light was shining on him. I wasn't sure who she was talking about, and I didn't ask...I just listened and acknowledged her. My Dad also had very interesting dreams leading up to his death which he shared:
He said that St. Germaine was there with him in the form of a dog, and they were running and flying together, and that he was really looking forward to meeting him on a soul-level, and that they were all waiting for him as well... and he smiled.
Dad was never afraid, and looked forward to the liberating, spiritual aspect of it… and of course to find his spaceship and take his rightful place at the high table. :) In his spiritual circle of friends, he was known affectionately as Commander Ziggy (Commander Z for short), and I had no doubt that he was a VERY old Soul and extremely advanced among the ranks! The last night of my Dad’s life, he had a very fitful sleep. He was uncomfortable, and every couple of hours he would call out for me or the nurses to help him re-adjust or have his diaper changed. He was hemorrhaging internally by this point and he said he just didn’t feel good. At one point around 3 or 4 am, he called for me and I ran my hand over his forehead and said quietly into his ear “It’s alright Dad… don’t worry.” To which he replied in a very serious tone “I am NOT worried.” Ahhh, right… because he never was. I was the one who was worried, not he… and he set me straight! After his fitful night, he ate a fairly decent sized breakfast of cream-of-wheat porridge and he made a special request for pears. One of my other brothers made the run to find some as I spoon fed Dad, then he ate a few slices of the canned pears my brother found, looked rather unimpressed, and then asked to be laid back in his bed. I tucked him in, gave him a kiss and wished him sweet dreams and told him I loved him. I had no idea he would never wake up. He slipped into unconsciousness and then hypoxia until he died that evening at 6:10pm.
He found his spaceship, by the way. :) His dear partner, Maureen, who I am also very close with and who experiences the veils between life and death as very thin, is now able to communicate with Commander Z and she sends me messages from him from time to time. On the morning my mother was actively dying, I was with her alone for a short period of time. I sat in a chair and looked out the window long and hard as the snow fell. I pleaded with Dad to come pick her up in his spaceship and take her for one heck of a ride, because she most certainly deserved it. I also pleaded that he show her the ropes, and look out for her as she finds her way HOME. My tears fell along with the snow outside the window, and Mom let out a little whimper… and I felt she was sensing my tears. I went over to her and ran my hand over her forehead. Very shortly after that, her breath softened. I felt Dad was coming to pick her up. Maureen emailed me after Mom had passed, with this message from 'Z' : "He wanted me to tell you that he did come pick your Mom up in his space ship and she had a beautiful and joyful ride. He said to tell you that she was welcomed Home with great applause and that, even though she's still orienting to having left her body behind, she is happy and enjoying laughing in ways she hasn't laughed in a very long time. He said that each of them had very successful lives, no matter how things might have looked on the surface of human appearances. It made me happy myself to hear and I hope that passing that on to you will also give you some comfort and peace". :) :) It did, Maureen. Thank-you.
We buried our Mother on Valentine's day (the same day that one year ago, Dad had his first spinal surgery) in a little cemetery outside of Camrose, Alberta. She requested a simple pine box and graveside burial, with just her children and her good friend, Norman, present. She also requested to be swaddled within the pine box in a blanket, and I like to imagine she was. My Dad's funeral in Wetaskiwin isn't until May, when the Alberta snows thaw and family can travel from afar. He came from a family of 13, so there will be many attending.
What I learned from the experience of being with both my parents as they died, is how much love was present, and how I have never experienced my heart breaking open like that… it was like a physical pain, a wrenching. And it was because of love. There was also a large amount of forgiveness that happened, both with and without the words. I feel blessed that they both died slowly enough that us kids could be there by their side, have time to talk with them and share stories and hold and touch them. My brothers and I received the gift of BEING there, with both of them, and for that I am forever grateful.
I miss them both immeasurably, and right now, my tears fall daily. My path in life has been altered, and I must find a new way of BEING… in my family life which now consists of my brothers and I, with my dear husband and my 2 wonderful sons, my wonderful friends and community...yet it feels challenging at times. Grief is a new guest in my house… passing through at random times and asking me to work hard. Some moments I want to turn away, and then I remind myself that the only way to the other side is THROUGH, and so I sit down and write or listen, or look… and the tears come as I do grief’s dance. <3
Sending LOVE to all those who are grieving their parents and loved Ones,
~Mamaleah
