But this is not about my lapse in faith. Today I find myself thinking about my Mom, and how much I miss her. She wasn't a church-goer, either -- indeed, she believed in reincarnation. But Easter was still an important holiday to her, and I find myself wishing I could be with her today.
Here is the story of my last visit with my Mom. Read and remember her with love and joy. It is what she would have wanted.
In early December (2007), I got an email from Staci, my ex-girlfriend, telling me that my mother's partner Debby was trying to get a hold of me. I guess she couldn't find my email address, and didn't know that I had cancelled my land line. I called her, and she told me that Mom was sick and in the hospital, and that I should fly out to Reno to see her. I couldn't really afford to miss work (as I was getting paid by the hour), so I booked a flight for early Saturday morning, to return on Monday afternoon. This way, I'd only miss a day of work.
I arrived at the hospital on Saturday, and Mom wasn't looking good. I found out that she had been there for 3 weeks, after catching pneumonia. She looked very weak, but she was happy to see me. We talked for a little bit (with me doing most of the talking; she could barely breathe, let alone talk), and I told her that I missed her, and loved her very much.
On Sunday, Mom put herself on the Do Not Resuscitate list. Essentially, she told them that if anything happened, they were not to go through any extraordinary means to keep her alive. We were heartbroken. This meant that Mom knew she wasn't going to make it. She wanted to make sure that we all were ok with her decision, and that we weren't mad at her. I assured her that I loved her, and trusted her to do what she thought was best. We called my brother Jason, and he was on the next flight to Reno he could get.
Sunday night, they put Mom on a morphine drip. Before she went to sleep, she asked for Jason, and kept asking "how much longer?" She wanted all of her children to be with her before the end. We told her "he'll be here soon." Jason arrived on Monday, and was in the room by 12:45pm. We left him alone with her to talk to Mom for a while. Then we all came back in and gathered around her bed. Debby sat on Mom's right hand, and I was on her left. Everyone gathered close, and we all told Mom how much we loved her, and that it was ok to let go. At 1:45, she stopped breathing, and finally let go. I truly believe that the tremendous love in that room put Mom at peace, and allowed her to stop hurting.
I miss Mom terribly, as I am sure every person she has ever touched in her life does as well. Her legacy lives on in many people. Even now, three months later, I occasionally cry as I think about her. She had a beautiful smile, and a childlike joy for life, which she shared with everyone. I can still hear her laugh, and quite often I find myself hearing that laugh whenever I see or hear something I know she would enjoy.
I would like to close with a copy of the eulogy I wrote for her. I love you Mom. Happy Easter.
delivered by Michael K. Glass Jr.
June 22, 1948 – December 17, 2007
My mother, Dianna Yielding, was a complex, multi-faceted person. Many of you here today knew my mother personally, and many of you knew my mother indirectly through one of her family members. You may have known her as a coworker, a friend, or a support person. Of course, all of my mother’s family here today each knew a part of her, a “facet” of her--as a partner, a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a grandmother, a cousin.
As many of you may know, I was not raised by my mother. She has always been “Mom” to me, but I have also come to know her as a friend. My mom shared much of herself with me over the years, and I saw sides of my mother as she struggled with her Sarcoidosis that I had never seen before, especially her strong belief in positive thinking and the importance of quality of life. I was privileged to know so many facets of my mother, but certainly I did not know all. There were parts of her life that I didn’t see, relationships that I didn’t know about. Over the past few days, I have heard so many stories about my mom’s strength, courage, humor, kindness, her quietness, her loyalty as a friend. It was so special to hear of these things that my mom said and did, to know some of these other parts of her life. I hope that her friends and family will continue to share these stories with me and with each other so we can continue to know and remember my mom.
Therefore, I would like to share a little about my mother as I knew her--as her oldest son, and as her friend.
I have quite fuzzy and varied memories of my mother when I was very young. After she and my father divorced, and after a lot of moving around, I finally settled into a relatively normal life with my aunt and uncle. I would visit my mother on a regular basis, and it was during these visits that I really connected with her and got to know her on so many levels. Each night I would get ready for bed, which usually was the couch. To this day, I still sleep on the couch when I visit mom’s house.
Mom would come in to say goodnight and tuck me in, and would usually end up sitting with me, talking for hours. I don’t remember what the conversations were about. They may have been about school, or life with my aunt and uncle, or some girl I liked. But she always listened, always answered every question I had in the best way she knew how, and never, ever spoke down to me; she always treated me as an equal. She would continue talking with me until I could no longer keep my eyes open.
As I became an adult, life sometimes got in the way, and I didn’t see her as often as I would have liked. However, we did talk on the phone from time to time, and again we would talk for hours on end. Many times, it felt as if we had some sort of psychic connection. Indeed, my mother firmly believed in this connection. I cannot recall how many times I would call her, and she would pick up the phone knowing it was me – of course, this was before caller ID!
Whenever I really needed her, Mom was there for me, even when nobody else was. No time was this more evident than when I was in the Navy. She was very proud of me, and she never let me forget it. She came to my graduation from Boot Camp, and never stopped smiling, waving, and taking pictures. When I was deployed to the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm, she was a huge supporter of the Yellow Ribbon Campaign back home. She did not get along with my wife Carrie at the time, but she was able to put her feelings aside and make amends with Carrie, because she knew how much it meant to me. She was there on the dock, alongside my wife, to greet me as I returned home from the Gulf War.
While in the Navy, I attended some classes and received my Associate’s Degree from Columbia College. It wasn’t a huge occasion, just a simple little ceremony, but it was very important to Mom and she flew to Seattle to help me celebrate my success. Yes, smiling, waving, and much picture-taking.
Another facet I can recall is that Mom was the consummate collector. I would not classify her as a pack-rat. She truly loved everything she collected, from DVDs of her favorite TV shows, to books, pens and business cards, to refrigerator magnets, dice and singing hamsters. Watching her shop for new treasures was a pleasure, and it was easy to get caught up in her glee of discovery. I can still hear her joyful little giggle when she would pick up some trinket and make it spin, shine, or sing a Christmas Carol.
For Mom, however, it was never about the “things.” More often than not, the things she would buy would never make it out of the package. They would find their way into a box or drawer, or sit on a shelf still wrapped in cellophane. She enjoyed the hunt, the discovery of some neat little toy. And the smaller it was, the better! Much to Debby’s chagrin, all you had to do was mention some neat gadget you just saw at Walmart, and Mom was out the door, dragging Debby along. Debby lived to make Mom happy, and although she’ll probably never admit it, I think she enjoyed being dragged along on those trips.
Mom was generous to a fault. If you told her in passing that you liked Smarties, she would always remember, and would make sure to give you some every time she saw you. She was probably the best tipper in Reno, and delighted in giving away golden Sacagewea dollars. If you were her valet, grocery bagger, florist, or dry cleaner, then you probably have received numerous gifts from her, including her famous Sees Candies. She truly delighted in making people happy.
One thing I learned early on in my life was to be very careful what you say to Mom. She was very observant, and that mixed with her generosity was a potent combination. I can recall many times when I would casually mention how cool some trinket was, sitting on one of her numerous shelves, and she would invariably say “You like that? It’s yours.” I can’t remember how many times I would return home from a visit with Mom with twice the weight in luggage as when I arrived.
I also knew my mother as a person who didn’t shirk her responsibilities, who did difficult things without complaint. I saw her care for her own sick and terminally ill mother, even having my grandma live here in Reno with her for a while. It certainly wasn’t easy for Mom to become a “mother” to her own mom. But my mom did this, and I have never once heard her complain about it.
I am sure that through the rest of my life, those around me will see flashes of my mother in me--the good and the bad! I am my mother’s own son, after all. Each of you also carry a part of my mother, and at times you will do or say something a certain way because of her. I hope you will always remember my mom, and share her memories with others! There are so many more memories of my mom; I hope you all feel free to share them with me and with each other.
I love you, Mom, and I will miss you.
