It’s been about two weeks now since my mother passed away, and life is pretty much getting back to normal for me. There’s still some work to do about settling the estate, but most of the grieving rituals are over. Most of the people around me in my daily life have expressed their sympathies, and I’ve very much appreciated their kindness. But that’s all coming to an end now.

So life is getting back to normal – but the normal has changed. Over the past few years, “normal” to me was giving most of my attention (and much of my income) to my mother to support her in her growing weakness. Admittedly, my role was more “oversight” in nature; it was my brother and the home care assistants who met her daily physical needs by keeping her clean, dry, warm and comfortable. They were the ones who gave her medication, fed her, cleaned her, brushed her hair, got up at 4am to adjust her breathing machine, wiped the mucus from her mouth during a coughing fit . . . I took the role of strategist, planner and adviser. Along with my usual two visits per week.

But that’s over now. And to be honest, I feel a bit sad about the “new normal” without my mother. There are still family responsibilities to be carried out, and there are new things that I hope to get involved with as to “fill the gap”. It also helps that my mother died a relatively “good death”; she was at home in bed, my brother was in the room, and she passed quickly (avoiding the gasping struggle that my brother and I had feared from her degenerating lung condition; she was spared by a massive organ failure). My brother was carrying out her doctor’s instructions precisely, so there was no implication of medical mishandling. It’s pretty clear that her time had come, and she went in as gentle a fashion as possible. For the most part, it was “mission accomplished” for my brother and myself. (Again, my brother did the heavy lifting, but my supporting efforts were also a part of it; thank goodness I never had to say “no” when he requested help).

What is unexpected, on my part is the personal bond that I felt with my mother, a bond now broken. I honestly didn’t think that I would feel this. Over most of my teen and adult years, I wasn’t all that close to her. We never were enemies; I never felt anything even remotely like the “hate” that some children express towards their parents, even in cases where there was no overt physical or psychological abuse on the parents’ part. For most of the time, I thought that my mother was a “good egg”, but I didn’t have all that much to say to her. So we talked, but we didn’t need much time to do it. She had her life, I had mine.

My mother has needed daily assistance since September, 2000, and her growing needs had been of logistical and managerial interest to me (and also financial, since her support expenses required that I adjust my own personal spending and saving habits). But over the past year or two, as she became completely dependent upon her support, somehow my emotional bonds with her started to grow again. I say “again”, as it is clear from the pictures that we recently dug up from her collection that I was quite close to her as a young child. I don’t remember that situation in detail, but my mother obviously had a warm and caring, if somewhat strict child-rearing strategy (strict relative to today’s standards, anyway; and I now realize that was a good thing!).

So, interestingly enough, my feelings toward my mother came almost full circle over the course of our time together (56 years). In one way it makes her passing a painful thing for me; but in another, it leaves me perhaps a better person, a wiser person. I feel a desire to get on with my life, to make the best of what remains of that gift of life that she gave me so long ago. The “new normal” will take a while to build and get used to, but I feel that the basic building materials are still there to be had. Despite all the disappointments and burn-outs in my life over the course of my adulthood, I see that I am still able to . . . . well, let’s not get carried away here. The “L” word is not to be used lightly; it is hard-earned. My mother did earn it, and for that I will forever be grateful.