My mother, Jeanette Marie Snyder, passed away early this morning, and though I am very sad to lose her, I am relieved that her long-suffering with cancer has also passed. And she picked a remarkable day for it is also the date on which Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare died. And it is the feast of St George — which, according to my daughter — is celebrated in Barcelona by exchanging roses and literature. Perfect, and to add a Tucson twist, we will drink a few celebratory shots of tequila.
It has been a long journey for her — and the last month was really hard. She was of the "do not go gentle into that good night" sort of woman, so it was a slow dying, with moments of angry rebellion, and then finally, with enough morphine to remove the pain, a more peaceful but still determined resistance to cast off the mortal coil. I know this about her — she was stubborn. Even as her systems shut down, her heart was still strong. I awoke yesterday morning with the image of her, somewhere in her head, conversing with a group of confused angels, refusing to leave until she had fully explained to them the intricacies of Tibetan culture…a last and long lecture…to get out all she had wanted to say and write about these last years. Only when she was done talking, only when the light of understanding reached those heavenly and patient faces, would she then rise and go with them. I loved that about her.
Many prayers and blessings coming your way.
I’m so sorry for your and your family’s loss Midori. May memories of the good times be strong in your heart and mind and comfort you. I’ll raise a glass to her here too.
Thank you both. I am going through all the photos…so many wonderful moments to chose so it helps a lot, reminds me of how unique and full her whole life was. She was loved by a lot of people.
Dear Midori
Just catching up here, and so please forgive the belated response.
I’ve always been intrigued and beguiled by your references to your mum on this site, both in words and images. (I think I’ve mentioned her beauty before, as evidenced in the photographs above.)
Losing a parent is always going to be a time freighted with profound meaning for any offspring, whether child or adult. When a second parent leaves, we find that we have almost imperceptibly moved to the top of a queue that once we were so far down as for death to feel meaningless. My own mum died so long ago that it becomes harder and harder for me to recall her face. My father long outlived her, but then when he went in 1999, I genuinely thought for a while that nothing could be so bad again, and that I had at a last reached a fearless maturity. And indeed I was fearless for a while, until the complexities of life wore away simple notions of courage. Balanced against that is a sort of elation that experience of death renders one wise enough to cope with whatever comes, and both my parents met their ends with courage, though neither had easy journeys. These are the exemplary precedents that I must one day try to live up to, in order to die well!
These will be strange times for you, and I wish you the wisdom and strength to negotiate them skilfully. All life’s experiences are fuel to the creative soul, and this in time will feed your creativity in ways that will surprised you. I know whereof I speak, so trust me on this.
Sending love from Wales. And hugs. Big ones.
C xxx
Oh Clive, thank you so much for your wonderful comment. It is so true, that feeling of stepping closer to the chasm, it gives one a slightly heady feeling. I am in the process of working through all of her affairs now — like her, messy, over several countries, fascinating, a royal pain in the ass (missing tax returns? her last name incorrectly reported on so many legal documents) and brilliant discoveries too — people from around the world reaching out to tell my brother and I stories about her. I hope to post a lot of bits and pieces about her here — and oh…lots more photos!
Ar dheis Dé go raibh sí; may she sit at God’s right hand.
Thoughts, prayers. and best regards….Mark
Thank you Mark.
I’ve already tendered my little bouquet of condolences (paltry as those things must be in the face of such departures) elsewhere, but I was thinking about your mother, fearlessly teaching those alien, patient figures before she would go through the door… and came by to leave another little heartsease blossom…