MOM - SOME THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES by Syd Blackwell
At the age of twenty-four years, one hundred thirty-five days, Kay Blackwell became a mother for the first time. She would give birth to three more boys in the next seven years, and a daughter fifteen years later. My own recollections of my mother began about four years later.
I was a sickly child. My most serious ailment was rheumatic fever that occurred during my fourth year. My earliest recollections of my mother were of her caring for me during these ailments that plagued my pre-school years. Also, at this time I began piano lessons from elderly Mrs. Langdale who lived behind our home. Mom had been advised that I should not participate in active sports because of a heart murmur from the rheumatic fever, and piano lessons became the alternative. I continued for about ten years, but was never really any good. I also lived an active, robust, adventurous 1950s´ boy life despite the heart murmur.
Before my teen years, I did not think about my mother very much, but she was the person that was always there, doing everything. In the early years when we heated and cooked with coal and wood, she was up before six, to get the house heated (in colder seasons), dad breakfast and off to work, and then kids up. Her days were spent in cleaning, shopping, preparing, cooking, washing, ironing, mending, sewing, gardening, budgeting, and so much more. She was always there. She was the first person we saw each morning and usually the last we saw each night. We all took her work for granted. We helped only occasionally and then usually whined and complained throughout.
By the time I had turned into a teenager, I was really starting to understand and appreciate how much my mother did. I also observed her through her last pregnancy, a most interesting life experience for a teenage boy. I had a great deal of friction throughout my teen years with my father. My mother became my guide and counsel. Even some of my friends talked to her about their problems. She also became proficient at giving her sons haircuts. Some friends even came for one too.
I left home for university in September 1965. I would return for employment four of the next five summers, but I resided in Victoria. Unlike most of my family, I would never again live in the Kootenays. It would be 29 years before I got close. I only knew of the intervening years through sporadic messages and infrequent visits. My mother was not often a part of my active life. It would be years more before I understood that she was always with me.
She was there for my wedding in 1970…and for my wedding in 1983,,,,and for my wedding in 2003. Motherly duty!
In late 2006, Gundy and I visited Uruguay and quickly made a decision to retire there. Gundy sold her business and left in March 2007, but I had difficulty selling my business. I was excited when mine finally sold in September. I drove to Rossland for a visit with my mother. I left two days later.
FARE THEE WELL
Summer lingered a little longer
than usual this year
By the last day of September
autumn golds, oranges and reds
had not yet captured half
of summer’s deciduous greens
A steady rain fell as I waved farewell
to my mother in the upstairs window
now knowing when I might see her again
or what condition she might be in then
or even if there will be a when
I dried my misted eyes
and began the rise
up the highway to tomorrow
quickly reaching fog
before rain turned to snow
summer letting go
me getting to go
Hope Slide Viewpoint
30/09/07
For most of the next year and a half, our communication was by telephone and occasionally by mail. I received frequent updates from my sister, Nancy. I heard of her continuing physical deterioration and the signs of mental problems. By the end of 2008, it was becoming clear that her time in her own house was nearing an end. She already had considerable assistance and the coming year would see that escalate. On Christmas Eve, Nancy arranged a Skype call where mom could be present. Our conversation was difficult. I felt strongly that I needed to send a letter to my mother, while she could still understand. I could see that time was slipping away.
Casa Inspiración
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Hello Mom,
I need to write to you. I’ve known this for some time; particularly since I spoke to you on the phone on Christmas Eve.
However, I want first to talk to you about the card that Nancy chose for you to send to me on my birthday. I know there was divine guidance in the choice of that card. I have never read or seen a card like that and know that it was where it was in the store so that Nancy would find it for you so you could say what you really wanted to say. I’m sure you don’t remember all of it, but here is what it said:
"Dear Son,
There are lots of things I meant to tell you before you grew up and journeyed out into the world. I suppose by now you’ve learned some of them for yourself. But there are things you need to know and words you’ll only hear from someone who’s known you from the start. Someone who heard your first heartbeat, who held you and looked into your eyes with amazement. Someone who relives the wonder and special meaning of this day every year. I want you to know that you’re as deeply loved now as you were in my heart back then. And wherever life takes you, that love will forever go with you."
I began my journey out into the world such a long time ago. Your home was my home only until I was 18; that was 44 years ago. I have always been a traveller. We have spent a long time at a distance. However, I have never doubted or never stopped feeling that you loved me and that I loved you.
Now that the physical distance is greater than it has ever been, it has become stressful to you. However, physical distance is not very important. Even when I was a lot closer I didn’t see you very often. There were times in those years when I didn’t see you for more than a year. I know it’s now been longer than that since we last saw each other. I also know that you are concerned about when we will see each other.
However, I have become a spiritual person. I am sure that I always was. I am sure we all are. I just didn’t know it when I was younger. I have had more time, since I stopped working, I have done more thinking about my spirituality. We are all spirits having a human experience; not humans having a spiritual experience. We are forever connected, you and I, and we have always been so. We will continue to be so. Nothing can prevent that. No distances change that. Whether we are here in this human world or when we pass again into the spiritual world we will still be connected. We are spirits together.
I have always known this and felt this. I have been awakened to my spirituality, but I have always known about our love. The difference is now I can see and understand and talk about it as I never could when I was younger. I know that the distance is only a human distance and that the spiritual distance is non-existent. It is the only distance that really counts. I cried when I left Rossland to move to South America because I too focused on the great physical distances and the uncertainty of the future. But, the future is always uncertain in human terms. It is only certain in spiritual terms.
So, for this time in our humanity we only talk on the telephone. It is a human way of communicating a lot of things that generally are not so important. It is also a way of reconfirming in a human way our love - a love that is universal, eternal and uncompromised by the simplicity of our humanity.
I’ll call you again around the end of the month. I hope you will have received this letter by then. If not, we’ll talk anyway, and I’ll know that you will know that I love you and I will know that you love me.
By August 2009, phone conversations had become disjointed.
FURTHER THOUGHTS FROM AN EVOLVING MIND
The characters of my dreams
come from here and there
cast together on stages
of my creation
it matters not how or when
I first knew them
for they have new roles
to perform
new relationships to form
age and manifestation
my manipulation
I do not sleep the deepest sleep
I travel about in a world I keep
separate from waking
But that difference
is not now so clear
to my mother dear
who can do the same
in the middle of some story
we share on the telephone
Not that she was always so gifted
but she is now
and somehow I understand
there isn’t much difference between
that and how I dream
Casa Inspiración
09/12/08
By October, they were worse.
PHONE CONVERSATION WITH MY MOTHER
I was out last night over on the other side of town
she said
but when I asked her where she couldn’t remember
at Nancy’s I asked
well if it was it sure didn’t look like her she said
of my sister
and I know it’s come to this
I heard of my brother’s new house
twice in fifteen minutes
and about the flowers he brought
like poinsettias she said but couldn’t remember a name
asters I asked thinking of a fall flower
and she said that’s it
and I know it’s come to this
Then she told me John Hart had phoned
but she couldn’t remember his name or where he lived
and when I guessed who she was talking about
she said yes that’s the one
he’s just like a son
but moments later she forgot his name again
and I know it’s come to this
And when I said it was spring down here
she suddenly flew back seventy-five years
to tell me once again of a Christmas turkey dinner
in the blazing summer heat of Australia
her only visit to the southern hemisphere
showing some thoughts still connect
and I know it’s come to this
And once again I heard about how
they’ve taken her car away
and she only had one little dent in it
and she can drive okay but they took it away and sold it
not at all recognizing the walker she needs to walk
and the chairlift she needs for the stairs
and I know it’s come to this
And when as I have done
I think that it has been a long time since I saw her
and wonder if I ever will again
I have to remember that even if I did visit
it might well be as last night
and I know it’s come to this
Casa Inspiración
12/10/09
June 23 (2013) – Sunday
We breakfasted with Nancy and Don on excellent breads and jams and bowls of fruit and thick yogurt. Wonderful!
Around noon, we will visit our mother. Nancy sees her all the time; Tom also visits her regularly. I last saw her at the end of September 2007. I never thought I would see her again. She is now 91, wheelchair-bound, incontinent, unable to self-feed and fully into Alzheimer’s. I had no expectations that she would know me in any way.
We found my mother at one of the tables for residents who cannot feed themselves. Nancy visits once or twice a week, mostly at lunch so she can feed mom. We appeared and she recognized Nancy. Don, Gundy and I stood back. She does not know Nancy as her daughter, but as someone who comes to visit her often.
Suddenly, she focused on me. Everyone else also noticed this. She stared intently at me and then smiled. She had recognized me in a way that she had not done with other family members who had visited. She did not say anything but there was no question that for a few moments there had been recognition.
Soon the food appeared and Nancy fed mom. From time to time, she looked at me briefly. She also looked at Gundy a few times. After her meal, I leaned in close to her head and she spoke to me in a low, slow voice.
“I haven´t seen you in a very long time.”
Then the moment was gone. She was somewhere else. However, I was fighting back tears. The initial recognition, the fleeting glances, and this amazing statement had never happened with anyone else since she slipped down the Alzheimer slope.
There would be no more moments.
Kay Blackwell passed away in her sleep on March 22, 2018.
