My mother passed away on October 28, 2021. I will post a special piece in her memory…both in German and in English…very soon. Before I do, I want to share an experience I had with you.
Following our mother’s death, my brother Chris and I discussed and agreed upon the arrangements for our mother’s funeral service, which was held on November 12, 2021. On November 9th – the day Mom would have turned 87 – I met with the pastor to finalize the details of the service. Before my meeting with him at 2pm, I visited Dad’s grave, where Mom’s urn would be placed a few days later. In memory of Mom’s 87th birthday, I placed a rose in front of the gravestone, and stood there in silence.
It was a surreal experience to honor Mom’s birthday at a cemetery. For several years, Marius and I had been used to being with Mom on, or around, her birthday.
However, from now on, there will be no more hugs and kisses. No more saying “Happy birthday, Mom”, while we handed her a bouquet of flowers and a box of her favorite chocolates. No more lunches. And no more walks and talks thereafter.
Instead, here I was, standing in front of Dad’s, soon to also be Mom’s grave, thinking to myself, “There’s something wrong with this picture”.
Speaking of “There’s something wrong with this picture”, I noticed – out of the corner of my right eye – the fresh flowers at the children’s cemetery, which meant there was a child who had recently passed away. I’m not in a habit of visiting the children’s cemetery when I place a candle or flowers on my father’s – now my parents’ – grave. However, in 2005, Marius’ daughter and son-in-law lost their first child and daughter N. two days after N. was born. Let’s just say that the loss of a child has taken on a much deeper meaning for Marius and me since N. passed away. When we visit his children and grandchildren in The Netherlands, Marius and I always make a stop to N.’s “special place” to bring her flowers, a balloon, or a colorful windmill.
When I saw the fresh flowers, I made my way to the spot where they lay. I saw that a girl named M. had celebrated her 12thbirthday on October 11th and passed away a week later, on October 18th. From the ribbons placed on the flowers, I could tell that M. has a mother, a father, a sister, and grandparents who miss her dearly. I immediately thought of our first grandchild N., my 6- and 13-year-old nieces, and Marius’ grandchildren, ages 8, 9, 12, and 13.
I stood there and thought, “Imagine my nieces, or one of our grandchildren, suddenly being ripped out of this life. This family must be going through hell. Unlike my mother, M. will never have the opportunity to live a long life. Unlike my mother, M.’s parents will never see their ‘little girl’ develop into a woman and discover for herself what life has in store for her. Unlike my brother Chris, M.’s sister will never experience the challenges, but most of all, the joy of a sibling relationship”.
Why am I sharing this experience with you? Because it has helped me to see Mom’s death in a different light. Losing her has been and will continue to be accompanied by a deep sadness. However, Mom lived a long, fulfilling, and adventurous life. In contrast – at least for me – the end of M.’s life is not only extremely sad, but downright tragic. Like a young tree whose branches begin to shoot out and take form, and then suddenly gets cut at the stem, so too did M.’s life get cut off much too soon.
Yes, I am grieving, and will continue to process Mom’s death for quite some time. Losing a loved one is absolute, and the “hole” that Mom’s death has left behind will never be filled. At the same time, I am extremely grateful for the almost 55 years Mom and I were able to spend with each other! When I compare those 55 years with the measly 12 years M.’s family had with M., then – for me – the pain caused by Mom’s loss has become somewhat relative.
First, thank you for sharing this personal story of your mother's passing, Jackie. After reading your essays this past year or so I feel like I know her in some way and so I felt some sadness, too. I'm glad you got to share so much of your love and care for your mother in her last years. But this essay went deeper, thanks to your keen awareness at the cemetery. How wise for you to venture over to M.'s grave and compare that tragedy with your grief. I also was able to understand that through your writing. Your gift of sharing words in just the right way has opened up new perceptions for me and I'm grateful to you for that.
I would like to echo Jim’s words. This was very moving and I will remember this perspective. Your beautiful photos are also such a gift. Thank you for this essay!