There is something inherently spiritual and sacred about saying farewell to someone before they die. Tender feelings are expressed through flowing tears, tender touches and verbal expressions of love often taken for granted are shared freely and meaningfully.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched my mother-in law and her brother say goodbye to their ailing and aged mother. My heart ached as my wife’s uncle gently cradled his mother’s head and told her that he loved her. Few words were spoken those of us in the room, but the unspoken feeling was that the end is near.
My association with Gigi (short for Grandma Gorman) has been relatively brief—a mere five years. But during that short time I have learned a lot about this woman who is loved so deeply by her family and friends.
When I first met Gigi, my wife warned me that she had early stage dementia and was losing her mind. (Aren’t we all, though?) Gigi, my wife explained, had always been the life of the party. The dementia may have dulled her memory, but certainly not her charm and wit.
Gigi founded and successfully ran her own bookkeeping business in a time when women didn’t do such things. She was confident, successful and giving to those in need.
She was especially generous to her immediate family, once taking my wife on a trip to Australia, where adventure and good times was the goal. Although in her late 70s when she took the trip, she didn’t seem to have any problem engaging in all the activities offered on the trip. My wife told me she had a hard time keeping up with her grandma on that trip.
When her husband 13 years her senior passed away in 1985, she mourned his loss, but continued on with her life. She possessed a strength and determination that would not let her wallow in self pity.
With a desire to learn how to paint later in life, she took classes and soon became an accomplished painter. A few of her paintings now adorn the walls of my home.
Her independence was her most prized possession and she fought to remain independent to the end. After her car was taken from her, she started going on daily walks along a local canal. Her neighbors kept a close eye on her and helped my mother-in law keep tabs on her and make sure she always found her way home.
She frequented a local restaurant where everyone knew her by name. Everyone at the restaurant looked forward to seeing Gigi for breakfast, lunch or dinner, and the servers knew exactly what she wanted when she got there.
Gigi was always seemed upbeat and frequently wore a smile on her face. She raised her children in the Catholic faith and taught them to keep the commandments; that rearing laid a foundation for my wife’s fine upbringing and later conversion to the Church. I am grateful to Gigi for her goodness and righteous living. I can say without hesitation that my wife was raised by goodly parents.
My poor words can do little justice to a woman who is just a few months shy of her 93rd birthday, but I can honestly say my life is better for having known her.
When I reflect on what Mother’s Day should be like, I will forever remember the tender moments when Gigi’s children said goodbye to their mother. For a moment in that lonely nursing home room, I witnessed what it truly means to honor a mother so truly and completely.