God Bless
Joan Craig
April 23, 1940 - July 16, 2023
Writing this blog was a labor of love and then it became a chore on some subconscious level because the desire to blog just waned after my father, Frank Vincent Gattuso, transitioned from this life. That was the subject of my last blog in 2017. It just didn't flow the way it had for so many years before. I suppose that's what happens as you age, you have less to say, and more to ruminate over.
But, all of that has changed with the transitioning of my beloved Mother, Joan Mary Craig. Mom transitioned this July and my heart ... oh, my poor heart, has suffered a blow unlike any other. Mom got diagnosed with terminal lung and throat cancer this year, more specifically, in March - the beginning of Lent. Ironically, I had chosen to try and give up using cuss words but I literally forgot all about that until months later. Giving up my Mother was what was on the table and I had to get in alignment with it. This was my Mother's journey way before it was mine, or ours as a family. She was calling all the shots and this blow, this most devastating news got even worse when we were told that she barely had 3 to 6 months to live. The diagnosis the doctors provided was fatal and shocking, and time became of the rarest essence.
Somehow, some how, my beloved got in her Highest wisdom, grace, strength and in alignment with this diagnosis and we, her family, were immediately called upon to begin to take the action necessary to journey with Mom moving, providing, witnessing, anchoring, supporting, protecting, medicating, feeding, and deeply, deeply loving her along her last chapter riding the high tides and rip currents. The Winter was also waning but the chill of the Dark Night of the Soul was just beginning for all of us.
Mommy lived alone in Brooksville, Florida and needed to relocate immediately to my sister's house in Tampa. Debbie has a on suite guest room that Mom stayed in whenever she would go visit so it was a very natural and easy transition from visiting to living out her last days. I say "easy", because our Mother made it look so. I do believe my sister and I struggled with it the most. All the unknowns. All the pressure of the what ifs and the responsibility for someone who is becoming so frail and sick. All the pain of watching your most precious loved one receive this death sentence and all the while she is smiling and so completely present in the moment. Once Mom moved in and gave up just about everything, Deb would began a new 24/7 life, on call for Mom, on duty, absolutely no rest for the weary with an ever listening ear to see if she needed anything and I travelled back and forth providing relief and taking the reigns a total of four times in five months.
I flew down to Florida and my sister began making arrangements that none of us were really present to. You kind of go through the necessary motions of what life throws at you and it isn't until weeks, months, years, or maybe even lifetimes, that any of it makes any sense and even then there really are no promises. We all just do the best we can with what we've got.
When I got to Brooksville, I was so happy to see Mommy and to hug her and kiss her and spend time doting on her in any way that I could. I don't know if I was as grounded as I had thought I was in retrospect these mere ten weeks later. At the time, it was not evident that Mom was dying. She looked amazing, while she had been on oxygen, her spirits were so high, and while she was tired and coughed and needed rest, she also was on her way to 83 years old, so there seemed at least for me, some denial as to how bad it was and how bad it was soon to get. And, when I say bad, it wasn't as bad as it could've been. We've all heard horror stories and have seen some terrible suffering and our Mother absolutely suffered, but never have I ever seen anyone do it with such grace and strength. Perhaps Mom was protecting us from her true emotions, but I don't believe that because her eyes never lied. Her lips never lied. And, Mom's heart was so completely love the whole time she was walking through this valley. I swear her head was high looking toward the horizon for the first light the whole time. I didn't see her blink. I didn't see her sweat or even cry. Deb said Mom cried when she first found out. But, not to me. On the contrary. I cried when she told me. But, her response was, "I will tell you when it's time to cry, Maria". And, well, Mom transitioned and she never did tell me it was time to cry. THAT's how strong our Mom was. I was her baby and she absolutely protected me from the inevitable grief that I would feel and that I am feeling as I type these words. And, crying? Well, let's just say that my Mother, Joan Mary Craig is and will always be an incredible heartbreaker to anyone who knew and love her and I've not stopped weeping. I cry every single day sometimes all day. If I allow myself to fully feel it and I do, I can go for days. The past week was like that. The weather is changing, its been dark and rainy and it triggered all the grief that I've been storing for lifetimes. At least that's what it feels like.
When Mom first transitioned, I felt like I was having a heart attack. I had the worst pains in my heart and really thought, "oh, this isn't good", but just rode the wave of grief until the tide went back out and took my pangs and literal heart pains of grief with it. I have heard of people dying of broken hearts and I can, after feeling that deep level of grief, totally understand that.
My quest here now is a deeper understanding. Evolution is a process and grief is a major player as to how we cope with the life and death of it all. Sure, we've been doing this for eons but not one of us truly knows until we actually have the experience ourselves. I honestly believed I knew what grief was before my parents died, and to some extent, I did. But, as evolution, information, learning, experiencing and expanding are concerned, this is part and parcel of the journey. How well we cope in this lifetime will dictate to the future generations how to cope and we share all of this information on the cellular level over time and each one of us is having a very unique experience and adding to the whole.
So, when it's our turn to experience something like the death of parent, we show up ready or not and take our lumps and rise to the challenges as best we know how knowing the whole time we are ill equipped and are falling short just like all those that came before us and it's just absolutely perfect in its imperfect unfolding.
I was literally on the couch watching something on tv and hit the pause button, came upstairs and for whatever reason, started to blog after 6 long years and the subject that is driving this message, that is typing these words and that is trying to mend this broken heart, is GRIEF. Grief and gratitude.
I Am grieving. I Am grateful. I Am That I Am.
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