Rest in peace, Dora Furr
Sep. 2nd, 2011 03:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jayfurrEveryone, thank you very much for your kind notes and Tweets and Facebook postings. Yesterday was a very hard time for my whole family; none of us slept much since we got the news from the hospice about my mom's passing late on Wednesday evening and none of us was in a very upbeat mood. My father is very upset unless we distract him, and when we distract him, we feel bad about being silly when my mother is newly deceased and awaiting cremation. It's very hard knowing what balance to strike. :(
My mother spent a hard last couple of weeks of life. She had been battling weakness and an infection of her legs and had been in a rehab center in Florida, trying to get her strength back and beat the infection. Then she began feeling so sick and weak and was in so much pain that she insisted on being admitted to a full hospital and taken to the ICU. Unfortunately, they were not able to do much for her. Her strength went quickly and when we called to see how she was doing she was not very lucid. My father and our Florida relatives spent as much time with her as they could, but despite the care and the company she declined rapidly. I had planned to come down and visit in October but when I got a text from my cousin Ann at noon on Wednesday informing me that Mom was in really, really bad shape and was being transferred to a hospice and that this might be the end, I immediately booked tickets to get down here ASAP.
I wasn't in time. I got here to Brooksville at 1 pm yesterday; Mom passed 14 hours before, late on Wednesday night. My father and my sister Elizabeth had just taken her to the hospice, gotten her checked in, and gone home to get some rest... when the phone rang saying "come back! we don't think she's going to make it much longer."
She didn't. When Dad got back to the hospice she was already gone. It was hard for him, walking in and finding her ...
Today at the funeral home we were offered the opportunity to see her one last time; we had already decided not to have an open coffin at the memorial service and to simply honor her wish for cremation. Dad did not want to see her that way again; he had already said what turned out to be his final goodbyes at the hospital during a moment when Mom was somewhat lucid. My sisters Elizabeth and Julie and my brother Rob and I went in and took turns saying what we had to say. None of us were entirely comfortable going in and seeing my mother lying under a blanket, only her head uncovered, un-made-up and basically as she had been at the hospice... but we knew that if we didn't take that one last chance we would forever regret it. But I don't really want my memory of my mother to be forever that -- frail and shrunken and devoid of the life and spirit and humor and irritability that always informed her.
I will miss her very much.
We have planned the memorial service for 4 pm tomorrow at Merritt Funeral Home in Brooksville, Florida. We'll all speak about our memories of Mom and we'll probably spend a lot more time crying than laughing, but eventually I imagine we'll eventually be able to smile again.
The obituary will run in tomorrow's St. Petersburg Times and the Roanoke (Va.) Times. My father has requested that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to Habitat for Humanity, the Salvation Army, or the local charity Jericho Road.
I know I'm not the only person ever to lose his mother. I got notes yesterday from many people talking about how they'd recently lost one or both of their parents... and I hadn't noticed their postings to that effect. I lead a very self-absorbed life at times. :(
It's hard to prepare oneself for the experience of losing one's mother. No matter how many times I've reminded myself in recent years that this day would come, the reality and the suddenness were hard to deal with when they showed up in all their cold, concrete awfulness.
You know how I found out that my mother was on the verge of passing? I was sitting in my office at work, lecturing to a great group of staff at a customer on the West Coast via a websharing/teleconference session, when my cell rang. I couldn't take the call then, obviously, and I silenced it -- but Google Voice happily transcribed the message for me and showed it on my cell's screen. "This is Ann. Your mom's being transferred to a hospice. She's going fast. They think this is the end."
It was not easy to keep lecturing after that. I did my best, but realized after a bit that my mind was a million miles away and said "I'm sorry. I just got a text that a member of my family's gotten very bad health news. Very, very ... bad." And then I kept on going.
To their credit, they put two and two together and called me during our lunch break and told me that they'd like to reschedule the balance of our time together for a couple weeks hence.
And I called United Airlines, tried to change our frequent flier award tickets to San Francisco into tickets to Tampa, and wound up having to just buy new ones and get a refund on the old ones. I had no idea what to say for my return date... Mom was still alive, though failing rapidly, and for all I knew she would rally and survive for weeks. Would I still be able to go to San Francisco at the end of next week and take part in the long-anticipated 3-Day For The Cure walk there with Carole, or would I still be waiting, worried, next to my mom's bed? I wound up saying "Route us on to San Francisco on Thursday of next week, then home to Vermont the Monday after." I knew that if Mom held on, I could always pay a change fee and stay longer and skip the 3-Day.
Then I went home and packed, wondering how long I had before Mom would pass, or if she would pass at all... and felt awfully bad about even entertaining the idea of making it to San Francisco. Carole and I have trained and walked hundreds of miles all spring and summer long to get ready, but that dwindles into insignificance next to my mom's health, doesn't it?
I called my brother Rob in Canada and my sister Julie in North Carolina and found that both of them were only planning on staying through the weekend -- unlike me, they hadn't had a week of vacation coming up. I knew they felt bad about the prospect of leaving to go back to their regular lives with Mom still hanging on, but what could they do in the face of so much uncertainty?
Then it all became moot. Our frantic plans to try to beat the clock and get here while Mom was still holding on became moot Wednesday night at 10:30 when Dad called to tell me that she was gone.
We are glad to know that she's no longer in pain and feeling miserable and sad and confused and desperate. But still -- there are no words, despite my lengthy rambling above, to really let you know how I feel. And there may never be.
My mother spent a hard last couple of weeks of life. She had been battling weakness and an infection of her legs and had been in a rehab center in Florida, trying to get her strength back and beat the infection. Then she began feeling so sick and weak and was in so much pain that she insisted on being admitted to a full hospital and taken to the ICU. Unfortunately, they were not able to do much for her. Her strength went quickly and when we called to see how she was doing she was not very lucid. My father and our Florida relatives spent as much time with her as they could, but despite the care and the company she declined rapidly. I had planned to come down and visit in October but when I got a text from my cousin Ann at noon on Wednesday informing me that Mom was in really, really bad shape and was being transferred to a hospice and that this might be the end, I immediately booked tickets to get down here ASAP.
I wasn't in time. I got here to Brooksville at 1 pm yesterday; Mom passed 14 hours before, late on Wednesday night. My father and my sister Elizabeth had just taken her to the hospice, gotten her checked in, and gone home to get some rest... when the phone rang saying "come back! we don't think she's going to make it much longer."
She didn't. When Dad got back to the hospice she was already gone. It was hard for him, walking in and finding her ...
Today at the funeral home we were offered the opportunity to see her one last time; we had already decided not to have an open coffin at the memorial service and to simply honor her wish for cremation. Dad did not want to see her that way again; he had already said what turned out to be his final goodbyes at the hospital during a moment when Mom was somewhat lucid. My sisters Elizabeth and Julie and my brother Rob and I went in and took turns saying what we had to say. None of us were entirely comfortable going in and seeing my mother lying under a blanket, only her head uncovered, un-made-up and basically as she had been at the hospice... but we knew that if we didn't take that one last chance we would forever regret it. But I don't really want my memory of my mother to be forever that -- frail and shrunken and devoid of the life and spirit and humor and irritability that always informed her.
I will miss her very much.
We have planned the memorial service for 4 pm tomorrow at Merritt Funeral Home in Brooksville, Florida. We'll all speak about our memories of Mom and we'll probably spend a lot more time crying than laughing, but eventually I imagine we'll eventually be able to smile again.
The obituary will run in tomorrow's St. Petersburg Times and the Roanoke (Va.) Times. My father has requested that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to Habitat for Humanity, the Salvation Army, or the local charity Jericho Road.
I know I'm not the only person ever to lose his mother. I got notes yesterday from many people talking about how they'd recently lost one or both of their parents... and I hadn't noticed their postings to that effect. I lead a very self-absorbed life at times. :(
It's hard to prepare oneself for the experience of losing one's mother. No matter how many times I've reminded myself in recent years that this day would come, the reality and the suddenness were hard to deal with when they showed up in all their cold, concrete awfulness.
You know how I found out that my mother was on the verge of passing? I was sitting in my office at work, lecturing to a great group of staff at a customer on the West Coast via a websharing/teleconference session, when my cell rang. I couldn't take the call then, obviously, and I silenced it -- but Google Voice happily transcribed the message for me and showed it on my cell's screen. "This is Ann. Your mom's being transferred to a hospice. She's going fast. They think this is the end."
It was not easy to keep lecturing after that. I did my best, but realized after a bit that my mind was a million miles away and said "I'm sorry. I just got a text that a member of my family's gotten very bad health news. Very, very ... bad." And then I kept on going.
To their credit, they put two and two together and called me during our lunch break and told me that they'd like to reschedule the balance of our time together for a couple weeks hence.
And I called United Airlines, tried to change our frequent flier award tickets to San Francisco into tickets to Tampa, and wound up having to just buy new ones and get a refund on the old ones. I had no idea what to say for my return date... Mom was still alive, though failing rapidly, and for all I knew she would rally and survive for weeks. Would I still be able to go to San Francisco at the end of next week and take part in the long-anticipated 3-Day For The Cure walk there with Carole, or would I still be waiting, worried, next to my mom's bed? I wound up saying "Route us on to San Francisco on Thursday of next week, then home to Vermont the Monday after." I knew that if Mom held on, I could always pay a change fee and stay longer and skip the 3-Day.
Then I went home and packed, wondering how long I had before Mom would pass, or if she would pass at all... and felt awfully bad about even entertaining the idea of making it to San Francisco. Carole and I have trained and walked hundreds of miles all spring and summer long to get ready, but that dwindles into insignificance next to my mom's health, doesn't it?
I called my brother Rob in Canada and my sister Julie in North Carolina and found that both of them were only planning on staying through the weekend -- unlike me, they hadn't had a week of vacation coming up. I knew they felt bad about the prospect of leaving to go back to their regular lives with Mom still hanging on, but what could they do in the face of so much uncertainty?
Then it all became moot. Our frantic plans to try to beat the clock and get here while Mom was still holding on became moot Wednesday night at 10:30 when Dad called to tell me that she was gone.
We are glad to know that she's no longer in pain and feeling miserable and sad and confused and desperate. But still -- there are no words, despite my lengthy rambling above, to really let you know how I feel. And there may never be.
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no subject
Date: 2011-09-02 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-02 08:48 pm (UTC)It's hard to take, for sure.
Date: 2011-09-03 04:11 am (UTC)Good luck to you and Carole on your SF walk. The route sounds similar to ours in 2008, except we stayed at Crissy Field, not on an island. We did get to walk over the bridge twice, but I enjoyed the first time better since it was terribly windy late in the day, especially with the big trucks and busses going by!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-03 06:19 am (UTC)Mostly, I'm justvreally sorry...
no subject
Date: 2011-09-03 07:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 02:25 am (UTC)Take care of yourself.
Thank you!
Date: 2011-09-09 03:35 am (UTC)Thank you for sharing this beautiful tribute to your mother. I understand your pain. My mother died 4 years ago at the tender age of 57 when I was 34.
I found that writing tributes to my mother helped me tremendously as I reflect upon her death. I would like to give you a link to my blog dedicated to her: http://cwangel.blogspot.com/
I hope it can bring some comfort to your heart or at least a crying session to get it all out.
Cherie