Mom

I mentioned in the Canada post back in April that I was feeling sad from an attack of nostalgia, and if you happened to have read that you probably thought as little of it as I did. I often feel sad thinking about the life I left behind to come to Japan, and homesick for my home and family in Canada. On the morning of April 12 it was about as bad as it gets, but after more than 16 years in Japan I am pretty much used to it and didn't place much importance on it.

The only reason I managed to write a post at all that morning (I never have both the time and the patience to blog these days) was because I was waiting for my parents to log on to Skype so we could have a video chat. My parents finally learned how to Skype, after years of me pestering them to, after Shuma was born and now we have a video chat every few weeks, always on a Saturday morning (Friday evening their time- often with Joe's Pizza on the way). But on that morning I waited and waited but there was no sign of them. It was especially disappointing as the last time we Skyped they'd caught me before I finished my morning routine, and were subjected to my puffy unwashed face, scraggly hair and disheveled pajamas. And I'd been distracted with a major kitchen de-cluttering, with getting Shuma ready for Kindergarten, and with an upcoming Easter party. I hadn't gotten the chance to ask about their upcoming trip to Africa (the trip of a lifetime, my mom called it). This time I was all ready for them: freshly showered, fully dressed, hair combed, and face made-up. But they never showed up and I eventually, still feeling blue, got on with my day.

The next morning I woke up to an email from my dad telling me that my mom had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance the day before. This has happened before. She had been through a good number of health problems, and just last year had survived Legionnaire's disease, had a pacemaker implanted, and sliced open her knee in a tumble out of her tour bus in England. The nature of my dad's email led me to think this was not something to be terribly worried about, and I tried not to be. I didn't have to try very hard, as I was preoccupied with other things (see: Shuma starting kindergarten; also I was planning our trip to Canada this summer). And I was actually on the Air Canada website the next morning about to buy tickets home when I got an email from my brother and letting me know that this was in fact something to be worried about. Soon followed by a call from my dad. So I changed the dates on the tickets I'd been about to buy. There was still time to take a flight that day but it sounded like she was at least stable for the time being so I chose to leave the next day. That would give me more time to pack and prepare Shuma for the long flight.

And the next day, April 15th, I was taking a break from packing to prepare a little package of Easter stuff to send to my sister-in-law and her family, for the party we wouldn't be attending. It was mostly things that my mother had sent me the week before, chocolate eggs and bunnies and an egg dyeing kit. I was crying as I transferred each item from the box my mom had sent into the package for my sister-in-law, knowing that this was almost certainly the last care package I would get from my mother. And then my sister called to tell me that mom had died.

I don't remember what we said, or what my dad said when he came on the line, but after I hung up Hideaki came and held me and then I got on with my packing and I do remember all the things that went through my mind then. All sorts of things, like wondering what and how to tell Shuma. And realizing that almost all the clothes I was packing for him were bought by my mom, and that soon he'd outgrow them and there would be no more little wearable reminders of her. And feeling awful about delaying the trip by a day, telling myself we should have rushed to the airport without worrying about the stupid packing. Even thinking I should close the windows so as not to alarm the neighbors.

I managed to finish getting ready and Hideaki and I went out to meet Shuma's school bus, and then Shuma and I were on the way to the airport. I didn't tell him why, but I'd mentioned a few days before that grandma was sick in the hospital so he asked about that. I was able to stay surprisingly composed and maybe that sort of numb calmness is an early stage in the grieving process, but I think having Shuma with me helped. I had to stay calm for his sake. It was only when we were about to walk off the plane, then again when we were about to exit the airport doors, that I lost it. I had managed to stay so calm that it hadn't felt real, but somehow walking off of the airplane and out of the airport would make it real.

And of course it was real, and my dad drove us home to my family, and for a short strange time we were all together, but not quite. Soon we were surrounded by friends and more family, who took care of us in a way that I can't ever imagine being able to repay. (Hideaki came too, but that's a story in itself.) They fed us, kept the house clean, shared memories, and managed to cheer us up to an almost weird degree. The atmosphere was almost festive at times, especially at the memorial we held at home (in lieu of a funeral). It was very casual, only one short speech culminating in a toast to my mom with her favourite drink: rum and Coke. In my mom's version it's Bacardi white rum and Caffeine-Free Diet Coke, and if you imagine that tasting awful you are absolutely right. So the toast went "To Joanne", followed by a chorus of "blech". Not very dignified, and quite possibly not the send-off she would have wanted, but somehow I think that my mom, who loved to entertain and was once known for her excellent parties, would have gotten a kick out of it.

This is my mother's obituary, written by my sister:

Joanne B-
1943 – 2014

Joanne was married almost 48 years to Jim B-. Beloved Mom to Julie, Amy and Greg, and very special Gramma to Aaron, Zoe and Shuma. She was wife, mother, sister, aunt, mother-in-law, friend and Gramma; she was the center of our lives. We called her our Mothership. She organized, planned, listed, inspired and created special events out of the smallest and largest occasions. Her gifts to those she loved are crystal-clear in the dear memories we have of childhood treasure hunts, week-long birthday celebrations, cards for every event and always on time, odd memories of Swedish Christmas music and giddy imitations of the Muppets Swedish Chef.
Joanne loved to travel. We have many fond memories of her on the beach in Negril, surrounded by family, friends and glorp castles with the villas festooned in Valentine’s Day hearts, cupids and lights. She and Jim had many road trips through Canada and the US with the Burgesses, as well as several fine cruises through the Mediterranean, Aegean, Baltic and Central America, and a 2013 tour of the UK.
Jo’s intelligence, her serene capacity to make people at ease, her gift of making so many occasions special and her gentle ability in organizing a family of strong personalities are the gifts we’ll miss the most.

Comments

[Beritbunny]

I'm sorry for your loss. It sounds like your mom was a hugely wonderful person.

[Jill]

Thank you for sharing. So sorry for your loss. You expressed yourself very well...huge hugs from an internet stranger.

[Mary Beth]

I'm so sorry for your loss. I've read your blog off and on for years, and your mother always sounded like a wonderful person. I know you and your family have so many memories to cherish... Best wishes from the other side of the world.

[Melissa]

Your Mom sounds like a wonderful person and losing her must be devastating. It is amazing how our children help us to act stronger than we may feel at times. I am sure Shuma will remember her through memories, photos, keepsakes and the many stories you will share with him.
Life does change when you lose a parent, especially someone you admired and shared some of your happiest and saddest times with. Thank you for sharing, take care.
Melissa

[Patrick]

I am sorry for your lost, I have read your blog of and on for years as I lived in Japan. I truly appreciated the honesty you brought to it. Thank you for sharing and best thoughts to your family and you in this current time.

[suzy]

I'm so very sorry to read about your loss, your mother sounds like a very special person and so loved. Thinking of you and your family.

[Caroline]

I am really sorry for your family's loss, this must be such a difficult and heartbreaking time for everyone. I am thinking of you and wish you the best. Take care.

[Christopher]

My sincere condolences to you and your family.

[Amy]

Thank you everyone for the kind words.

[Heather Ricco]

I'm so sorry for your loss. Please be patient with yourself, and take care of yourself.

[Mariko]

I've been reading your blog for years and really enjoy your insightful and honest posts. I am so very sorry for your loss. Your mother sounds like she was a total adventurer, and it seems you have taken after her.

[carlyn]

Amy;
I am so , so sorry for your loss. May happy memories help you through this most difficult time. How fortunate you were to have such a lovely Mom.

[tofugirl]

I'm so sorry for your loss. Like many of the other commenters, I've followed your blog for years and you've painted a wonderful picture of your mum. I hope the happy memories that we've all enjoyed reading about bring you and your family comfort.

[Lilian]

I am sorry for your loss. I have been an avid reader of your blog from way back and when you stopped blogging for a while in spring I was hoping things were just hectic. I am sad to hear about your mom's passing away. On the other note I am glad to see how fast Shuma is growing up, starting school already. You are one tough woman, thank you for inspiring us with your stories of life.

[KWu]

I am so, so sorry for your loss. I think most moms look at their children and still can only ever see the little children they once were, no matter how dressed up or not you might be at the moment. I also think she would be proud that she'd raised a daughter to be such a good mom herself, that her grandson is in plenty good hands.

[penny]

i'm so sorry for your loss. may you and yours find comfort.

[Lisa]

I am so sorry for your loss, abundant blessings to your and your family.

[Vanessa]

I am really sorry for your loss and condolences to you and your family. I have followed your blog for sometime, and truly enjoy your insightful thoughts on life in Japan. As an anonymous reader and stranger on the internet, I wish there was more I could say that would offer a bit of comfort in what must be a sorrowful time for you. Blessings to you and the family and do know that somewhere out there in the world you will be in someone's prayers.

Take care and all the best Amy!

[Cassie]

Amy, I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. Best wishes to you and your family in supporting each other through this difficult time. I still read your blog 7 years since coming home from Japan, thanks for keeping me in touch with a wonderful time in my life.

[Trixie]

Oh dear, I just found out that you lost your mother and I am so sorry to hear that. My prayers go out to you and your family.

[Jayne]

I am so sorry to hear about your mum. Have been following your blog since I left Tokyo myself and was concerned about your absence. I feel so sad for you. Thinking of you and your family - another anonymous stranger on the interwebthingy

[Kavs]

I am so sorry for your loss. I have read you for years and have come to know your mother through your writing. Hugs!