Mom

Note: This post is to be considered part of my ongoing life in music series even though there is nothing about music in here. I'm including it because this event directly put things in motion that would send me along on various paths that would indeed shape my musical future. Some of these roads were wonderful and fun, and some were not so wonderful, but seemed fun at the time. But most importantly, I've been wanting to write this chapter for a very long time.


In the spring of 1979 my mother died. Unlike my dad’s sudden death, we had advanced warning that her esophageal cancer would be terminal.

Mom started to have a series of health issues from around the mid 70's, namely stomach ulcers and appendicitis. She drank and smoked way too much, and had major stress anxieties. So do I, but at least there is better chemistry out there to help folks like me that just have a rough time of dealing with it all.

I learned of her emergency appendectomy while my girlfriend and I were vacationing in San Francisco. I think I got a call from one of my sibs who told me of the event, but also learned that the surgery went well and there was no need to cut short my west coast trip. What I did do before I returned to Charlotte was to remove my shiny new earring stud from my ear lobe knowing that it would upset mom. If she wasn’t ill, I would have kept it in and dealt with it upon my return, but since she was sick, I felt it was the right thing to do.

Unfortunately, her stomach disorders continued and she was back in the hospital for more tests. This time she was diagnosed with cancer. She called me from the hospital to tell me the news. (at this point it was just her, Caesar the dog, and myself living together). I hung up the phone and fell apart. I fell apart in a big way. For days. I was just so frightened for her, and I was alone.

The doctors decided that possibly, there was a surgical way to remove the cancer. It would be a major operation that would essentially remove the diseased tissue and replace it with tissue taken from somewhere else. I don’t remember if any synthetic tubing was a possibility...it may have been.

The surgery was scheduled and it was going to take several hours for the procedure. My brother and sister (and maybe their spouses) and I sat in the hospital waiting room hoping for the best, but once the surgeon came down about 45 minutes after it began, we knew something was wrong. Basically, they opened her up and saw that it was a hopeless situation - the cancer was everywhere. They then closed her back up.

Once she recovered and was sent home, it was time for me to get my ass in gear and be strong. Basically, I was now her hospice worker. I knew she was dying and I would be the guy to hopefully help her get through this the best I could. I think that my...mourning had been done upon the news of the diagnosis. I was now ready to give something back to my mom, other than the disagreements and fighting that seemed to have defined our relationship. It was a very contentious way of life, but that was to end. I was about to get schooled in a most profound way. For once, even though it took the presence of death and dying, I was on the verge of learning a mind-blowing fact about the character of my mom, and the character of myself. It was heavy shit.

Up until then, I think I thought of my mom as being weak - the way she coped with my dad’s death, my sibs moving on, and of raising a rebel hellion (me) by herself. She was drinking too much and seemingly always having a petty argument with me about things that I deemed stupid and superficial - hair, clothes, appearances, girlfriends, friends, my music. These threatened her. What would the neighbors think? What would my grandfather think? How was I going to earn a living playing music? How would I build a comfortable future and prepare for a reasonable retirement that was so sought after, yet obtainable in the upper middle class values of that time? (Of course now, retirement is a pipe dream and as far as my hair goes...well, nature won that argument!) I fought these issues hard. I just could not see the relevance. She was wrong. She thought I was wrong. Neither of us gave an inch.

I did do the right thing when I quit Skyline. I had to be at home to help mom. In the following few months before mom passed away, I learned some life changing things that I was oblivious to at the time. It wasn’t until around 15 years later that the most valuable lesson sunk in to my mind and my heart. I actually didn’t think I could even put it into words until the last year or so, due to the reflections on my life I’ve written about in this blog.

What I now realize is that not only was my mom just trying to protect me, but she was undoubtedly the strongest person I have ever known.

Cancer of the esophagus is not a fun way to die. It should be a painful and horrific event on the human body. In the few months that I was alone with her, not once did my mom ever let me see her in pain. The only moment that came close was one day she was walking towards me in the hallway, winced a little, clutched her stomach and then turned around and walked back into her bedroom. That was it. I think my brother told me years later that she even refused to take most of her pain medication that was prescribed for her. I really was expecting the worst, but her inner strength spared me most of the trauma that I thought was inevitable. She was protecting me - her youngest child, with courage, strength and compassion. I now know this. My mom wasn’t weak at all. My mom was the strongest person I have ever known. Tough lesson to have learned so far after the fact, but it’s there now, and it is unshakable. In dying, she gave me more than she will ever know.

Mom died a few days after all of our family and her grandchildren visited one last time. She collapsed in the front yard, went into the hospital and was gone in a matter of days. A nurse called and told us that we should come in. We knew what was up. We went to the hospital and the nurse told us she passed away in her sleep. We went to her room and she was lying in her bed. I’d never seen a dead person before - my mom gave me a choice about seeing my dad in his open casket and I gratefully declined, but here she was, with no life left in her. I bent down and told her that I loved her and kissed her on the forehead.

The other day, my boss asked me if I missed my parents. My dad has been gone for so long and died when I was so young, it’s hard for me to think about missing him. But I also find it hard to miss my mother. She’s there in the mirror every single day - and unfortunately, at present, I just see her anxieties, her inability to cope, her drinking, and her smoking. I just hope to the high heavens that someday I will be able to see just a fraction of the strength that she so compassionately and courageously showed me.

Rest in peace, mom. I now know that you did the best you could. Thanks.