My Mom was diagnosed with lung cancer at just about this same time last year. She died on Tuesday.
The nurses at her hospice did a terrific job of managing her pain and I’m confident that she passed away comfortably and with dignity. I and the rest of her New England kids were there with her all day, holding her hand and talking to her.
It was really quite beautiful. I was gone for the critical moment, I’m sorry to say. Sometime a little after five, the growling of stomachs became audible and we realized that the four of us hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. I made a sandwich run and missed Mom’s passing by literally a minute or two. But I’m told that it was very calm and quiet. The room was a little stuffy and someone opened the big ceiling-high swinging conservatory windows in her room, and that’s when Mom went.
I’m okay.
We walked a long, long road together over this past year and I had plenty of time to accept things. I can’t speak for my sisters but personally, the day felt like dropping off your kid at college. It’s a sad event, and I’ll miss Mom terribly, but it was time for her to begin the next part of her adventure. I felt as though my final responsibility to her was to let her go.
I’ve written that paragraph many times to friends over the past week. It’s never been a cut-and-paste job, either. Each time, I think about it and try to share what the day was like. That’s always the truth.
Speaking of truth: no, I haven’t mentioned Mom (or Dad’s) illnesses anywhere publicly. Mom’s cancer was Mom’s story, not mine. Her story became part of my story, but it wasn’t my story to tell.
Also…well, my public Internet presence was like the home phone number that nobody at work knows about. When I had some time to go on Twitter or Flickr or my blog, or record podcasts with the usual crew, it was a terrific vacation from the Cancer Office.
I know that you’re all sensible people, so I needn’t explain that a blog is not a mandate to obsessively document your life, either. You’re my readers, not (thank God) fans who obsessively need to know everything there is to know about a person. If the subject is interesting, entertaining, illuminating, or informative — that is, if I think you can get something out of it in any way — then it’s a candidate for the blog. But only if it’s not something I’d prefer to keep private.
Actually, I wasn’t even sure that I’d ever want to talk about Mom’s cancer publicly. The correct answer only became clear when I realized that I couldn’t bear to either (a) never talk about my Mom again or (b) keep speaking of her in the present tense, as though all of the courage and spirit she showed in 2008 never happened.
I’ll probably be writing more about her in the future. Writing helps me to think and to understand. The events of the past twelve months have given me plenty of things to think about and process.
The funeral was held yesterday. You’ll never meet my Mom, and I’m sorry because you missed out on a real treat. But maybe you’ll get some of her perfume from the eulogy I presented at my childhood Catholic church. I’ve made a couple of minor edits for privacy.
At any family event, I’m the guy running around with the big camera. I realized a long time ago that if I was the one TAKING the family photos, then I wouldn’t have to be IN the family photos.
That’s one of what I hope are many things I got from Mom.
Mom was never comfortable having her picture taken. I was reminded of that when I got back home on the night she passed. I poured myself a glass of wine and spent a few hours going through old hard drives and CDs and DVDs, looking at ten or fifteen years’ worth of pictures of Mom. And you could almost always see that little flinch or tension in her expression.
I was searching for one shot in particular. We were on the beach at the Cape about five or ten years ago. Mom was a little sunburned and she’d left her big hat back at the cottage, and I’d lent her my favorite hat. The one I wear almost every day.
If you enjoy taking pictures, you’ll understand what was going through my mind when I saw her in my hat: I was thinking “Oh, I HAVE TO have this photo; this is the PERFECT picture; oh, I hope I hope I HOPE she lets me take her picture.”
I have relatively few photos of my Mom, because I tried to avoid making her so uncomfortable but boy, did I want that photo.
And thank heavens: she said yes.
It’s the image that always comes to mind when I think of Mom. It perfectly matches the image I carry in my mind’s eye. There was no tension, no stiffness, no unease. Just the face of a sweet woman, happy, serene, content, a source of peace and love and comfort.
At the time, I thought it was just a lucky break that the photo had came out so well and Mom looked to natural and at ease. But Tuesday night in my office, with that picture filling the huge screen of my iMac, I figured out that it was no accident.
She was my Mom. And she could instantly sense how happy she could make me by letting me take her picture there on the beach.
Mom would do or sacrifice absolutely anything for us kids or our Dad. And not out of a sense of duty or obligation, but out of love. She took joy in expressing love.
It’d be incorrect to say that there aren’t many great photos of Mom. Going through all of those pictures in my photo libraries, and all of the photos that my sisters brought for the wake, you also see that exact same ease and contentment in every photo where she’s holding or playing with one of her grandchildren.
Mom considered her grandkids to be an exceptional blessing. Nine more babies to hold, nine more kids to love.
You didn’t even have to be part of her family to qualify for that sort of treatment. If you were her friend, she loved you deeply. If you were her neighbor, she was almost as proud of your kids’ achievements as she was of her own. Even if you just saw her every now and then at work, you’d get a hug and walk away having a much better day then before you’d bumped into her.
Mom always said she was terrible at math. She was right about that. Very, very, very right.
But she knew what she did best. At the end of the service, you’re going to hear one of Mom’s favorite hymns: “Let There Be Peace On Earth, And Let It Begin With Me.” That was Mom. She understood that it’s not enough to WANT peace; you have to have the humility and generosity to always help others to find the peace and love within themselves.
I have friends who didn’t have my sort of luck as a kid. They lost their mothers before they got to know them, or just as unfortunately, they got the sort of Mom who really wasn’t very well suited to the job.
I only wish that all of them could have met my mother. To spend just a half an hour with her was to understand what true, committed, complete love is like. They would have come away knowing what they missed.
Mom fought cancer with great bravery and dignity. Even in such terribly unfair circumstances, she was the center of peace and the source of love in any room she inhabited. As she was every day of her life.
Every person she loved was another thread holding her to this earth. The only love greater, and the only thing that could have pulled her away from us, was the love of a God who wanted his daughter to finally come back home and be with Him.
Rest in peace, Mom. YASBTM.
I’m a listener of MacBreak Weekly, just heard you speaking of your Mom on the podcast and wanted to send you and your family my deepest condolences. The picture you posted is great and shows loads of character and warmth…and a fighting spirit. I know you’ll miss her, but know that as long as she is in your heart and your thoughts, she’ll always be with you.
Andy, I just listened to MBW. I wanted to pass along my condolences on your mom’s passing.
Andy, I listen to all the TWIT podcasts and have enjoyed your sense of humor and insights over the last 2 years, for that thank you. I’m very sorry about your loss. I lost my Mom in 2001 and I know what you are going thru. I hope that you find the peace that you need to face your loss. From what I read, I suspect that this is the way she would want you to act.
Take care,
Joe Manich
Pittsburgh, PA
Thanks for sharing your mom’s story and that photo – she smiles just like my mom does! Beautiful! To steal a great line from a silly movie – your mom seems like “a first class lady!” (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0356910/quotes). I’m going to listen to the rest of MBW 107 while I ride the Yamanote line to work at Tokyo Station, but I’m also going to email my mom (in St. Louis) that I love her.
I need to hug my mum. My condolences to you and your family.
Andy,
There aren’t words. Really. I lost my father five years ago and it’s like yesterday and it feels like forever since he was here. Condolences to you and your family.
I love your participation on Macbreak. I”m listening to this week’s podcast as I type this. I’ve never been here before but I thought it was important to stop in and add one more voice of support for you in a difficult time.
Take care, be good and thank you for all you do.
Andy,
I just heard about your loss on MacBreak Weekly. My sincerest condolences to you and your family for your loss.
I really enjoy hearing you on the various TWIT podcasts and hope to continue to listen to you for a long time to come.
Take care and god bless.
Aloha,
Jarrett
I’m so sorry to hear of your loss, Andy. What a beautiful, heartfelt tribute.
Sorry for your loss, Andy.
My condolences and God bless you and your family.
My heart felt condolences. You are an awesome guy and bring laughter into my laugh and I am sure I can thank your mother for that. Keep doing what you do, she would be very proud.
Dear Andy,
I lost my mother early this month also, after going through much of the same process that you did, watching her slowly but steadily fade away. It was so difficult.
The last few months she was also in hospice, having moved there when I could no longer take care of her on my own. I did so for over three years, moving into her house, putting much of my life on hold. Much like you did.
Our mothers lived good lives, and raised excellent sons and daughters. My mom was happy with the way things turned out at the end, because she was happy with the life that she had lived. I think yours was too.
And both of our moms left too soon.
Best wishes and my deepest sympathies over your loss.
- Edward
My heartfelt condolences – David
I’m so very sorry to hear of your mom’s passing, she was obviously a wonderful mother…they’re amazing, aren’t they. I nearly lost my father to esophageal cancer last year and he’s still not quite out of the woods yet, he’s just 3 years younger than your mom. My hat’s off and I’m standing on my chair applauding you for being her precious caregiver until she left this life.
I add my deepest sympathies along with all the others and have to say that you’re an inspiration to in many ways.
Love reading your columns, keep it coming with that unique perspective and insight.
Best wishes,
Brent
Beautiful photo and a beautiful eulogy Andy.
Deepest sympathy for your loss.
My deepest condolences to you and your family Andy. That was a wonderful tribute to your mother. Makes me wish I had known her.
Be well,
Gene
I offer my deepest condolences to you and your family Andy. Your blog post was beautiful and I hope the outpouring of comments will let you know that people do care.
Best wishes,
Jared
Andy,
My deepest condolences on your loss. May you find peace.
Andy,
My deepest sympathy for your loss.
Your mother must have been extremely proud of you and I’m sure she’s watching over you.
Kind Regards,
William
Andy,
I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. God bless you and your family.
I’m sure your Mom and looking down and smiling with pride for you.
You are such a pleasure to listen to with your never ending tech knowledge and dry delivery.
Best Regards,
Mike
I just learned of your loss when listening to MacBreak Weekly. My thoughts and prayers are with you. And God bless you for taking care of her during her illness. You are a class act. She obviously raised you well!
Thanks so much for your invaluable contributions to the podcast community.
All the best,
Eric
Perspective can really become clear in times like these, it was one year ago mid September my mom was also diagnosed with lung cancer which took her in two months so she was gone by November 20. So I do have some idea but like you I loved my mom dearly and had a great relationship and she had a hard but good life so you have a soul brother out here and I hope only the best for you.
Ron E.
my moms pic with me at wikipedia ronemmerson
Andy,
Thanks SO much for sharing the picture and the story. As a dear friend who is also a radiologist told me during my father’s passing… “Look for the beauty in the whole process” Boy was he right, I hate to quote Kibran but he was on the money when he said “with out love you will laugh but mot all your laughter and cry but not all your tears” (I paraphrase) Anyway, thanks again for the image and you weekly insights and laughs on Macbreak…. Love until it hurts!
Keith Kefford
Andy,
Sorry for your loss. My prayers are with you. Thanks for all the laughter you have brought in my life, your mother was an amazing woman to raise a man like you
Tristan
Rockford,IL
Dear Andy,
I’m not one to make contact with someone I don’t know, but really wanted to send you my best wishes.
I listened to MBW today and heard your sad news. My thoughts are with you, and I appreciate you sharing your thoughts with your readers. I lost my Mum on September 1st and am only just starting to come to terms with it. the last few weeks have been very surreal, flecked with moments of serenity and beauty amongst the sadness. Know that there are people all around the world sending their thoughts your way, going through it too, finding comfort in your words.
All the best
Paul
Hello Andy
I’ve been a fan for a long time. I always enjoy your writing style and listening to you on TWiT .
My mom passed September 11, within a day or so of yours, from cancer as well. I read your eulogy and the tears started welling up. It is similar to what I wish I could have written for my mom’s funeral, but it would not have been as eloquent.
I, like everyone else here, am very sorry for your loss.
My deepest condolences
Norris
Andy,
I just tuned into Macbreak Weekly last night and heard the news. I am so sorry for your loss. I am sure that you will cherish the last year more than any other. My wife and I will keep you and your family in our prayers.
Blessings,
Paul L
Andy:
You have been like a weekly friend via podcasts for a very long time. I thank you many times over for the laughs and insight. I am stating this far too briefly, truly.
Many have already related your recent experience to their own, and indeed my mom passed away a year and a half ago. That given, much of what you have said in such a lovely way about your mother I appreciate at both face value and because of the personal chords you touch as well. Although part of our reactions just ‘happen’ – we will mourn, etc – we have a responsibility to celebrate even in the face of that. And for what that means not only to this moment in your life but for ‘the place it puts me in’ as well – thanks, Andy.
-Doug
I just heard it on twit. my deepest condolences!
I am very sorry for your loss!
teymur.
I’m sorry for your lost Andy, my condolences.
Andy, I’m so sorry to have heard the news on MBW.
Like many others here I lost my mother last year from cancer as well. I think people like your mother, and mine, great people who showed great strength, leave an inspiring part of themselves with those they leave behind, and as time goes on a lot of clarity has developed in the light of the horrendously painful year that lead up to my own mother’s death.
What I’m trying to say is that no matter how dark things are now or have been, things get brighter, life is illuminated in many different ways by the wonderful, loving glow our mothers leave behind as they move on.
Andy, I am so sorry to hear. I have gotten to know you through your various podcasts, mostly through TWIT and Macbreak Weekly. You are such a quick wit and have always had a great outlook on life. As time passes all wounds heal. Although you never spoke of her, that photo makes me feel like I knew her. You are a great talent and I am sure that your mother was proud of you and all you have done. I will always look forward to what you add to a podcast and will hold an even fonder memory of your podcasts from “Mom’s Fabulous Hotel and Casino” in downtown Boston. That always made me laugh and now will be bittersweet. Thanks.
Hey-I just heard your most recent MacBreak. I am so sorry for your loss, but maybe, you feel a bit like I did when my grandmother passed after her lung cancer battle….a relief from her suffering, a cumulative sigh, knowing she was gone, but that her pain had ended, and me being thankful for lots of love given to me from her, and lots of great memories.
Dear Andy,
I am very sorry to here your mother passed away. My deepest sorrow.
Ezra
Andy,
I am so sorry to hear of the loss of your Mom. When I heard you discuss her death on “MacBreak Weekly”, I was bowled over.
I lost my Dad September 13th after a stunning diagnosis of liver cancer. It was already stage 4 when it was discovered. A month ago he was still mowing his own lawn! From diagnosis to gone in less than 3 weeks.
My Dad and I had grown closer since my Mom passed in 2004. My mother, like yours, died of lung cancer.
The positive piece (and maybe the only one!) is that you had time to say what needed to be said to your Mom, over the past year. I was able to spend some time with my Dad before his death this month. Lots of hugs and hand holding.
As for hospice, they are angels on earth. I can’t begin to describe what kind of comfort and care they bring. Amazing for both the dying and the family who love them.
All my best wishes to you. My condolences to everyone here who has shared about the loss of someone they love.
I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. May the fond memories you have of her help you through this difficult time.
Ron
All the best to you and your family. I love your talks with Leo and Co. and your mom seems to be an awesome lady.
JA
Andy,
I just heard of your mom’s passing on MBW and wanted to share my condolences. It seems like you had a very special relationship with your mom and that is something you can cherish forever. You were very lucky to have each other.
I really appreciated you sharing something so personal about yourself and your home life on the MBW podcast and it got me thinking about just how personal podcasting can be. I feel like I actually know you, and even though I don’t personally, it still feels like it. If we were personal friends, you’d be getting a big hug just about now.
Much sadness for your loss.
Take care.
Antonio
Hello Andy,
I just heard you speaking of this on MBW and wanted to give my condolences. I’d like to wish you and your family the best for the future and remember to cherish your memories.
Amazing photograph as well.
Paul
I am very sorry for your loss. It sounds like your Mum was a very special person. It sounds very cliche, but imagine what the world would be like if every child had a mum like yours.
Craig.
Andy,
I am so sorry for your loss.
I, like many other people commenting on this post, can honestly say that I know what you are currently going through.
My mother died of bowel cancer nearly five years ago after fighting the disease for three years.
When a loved-one is diagnosed with a terminal illness and battles that illness for an extended period we think that we prepared for the moment when they die and that we have done most of our grieving in advance. That is not always the case. Some part of our psyche denies the impending reality and only grieves when when the death occurs.
My mother’s death was the most traumatic thing that has occurred in my life but on reflection it is the event that has has the most positive impact on me. While I did not realise it during her illness, my mother was giving me one final lesson about life; how to deal with death and cope with loss of a loved one.
We all handle grief in our own way and take our own time to get over things. Give yourself the time you need to let yourself grieve in whatever way works for you.
Steve.
PS: I would not be surprised if my mum and your mum have not already met in heaven and right now are swapping stories about their families.
I dread the day I lose either of my parents. I’ve lost both my grandparents and that was hard enough. I can only imagine what you’ve been through. My most heart-felt condolences to you. When anyone close to me passes, I can find strength in knowing I’ll see them again some day.
Peace.
Jersey Chris
I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. My thoughts go out to you and your family Andy.
Andy, i feel your pain, my mom passed away 4 years ago and she was my inspiration for everything, and i dont think there might be anything more hurtful than that.
Didnt get to know your Mom but you are a great person and if you refelect anything of what she is she must be incredible. Remember and talk about your Mom always.
Andy,
Hope your grieving goes easily.
Keep your spirits up.
I’m sure you kept her smiling, just like you keep me smiling.
The biggest regret in my 46 years relates to the death of my father 4 years ago.
I was away from home and his funeral was just a blur when I returned.
I wished I had my thoughts together and wrote a nice eulogy like you had composed. I had to cringe as the bishop delivered a error filled diatribe. I was horrified. It will never happen again but such regrets…
Our thoughts are with you Andy. Such a sad loss for you.
Andy:
You honor your mom through both your eulogy and your weblog entry. My prayers are with you and your family right now. But your mom gave us the give of — “you” and Andy has made our tech world a kinder gentler and funnier place.
Hang in there!
BEN
Andy, this was a beautiful post and a grand tribute to your mother. She had to be very proud of you. If I had a son, I would have been pleased and honored to have him turn out as well as you have.
I am sorry for your loss but proud of you for your mother and for the rest of the human race.
April
Hey Andy,
Mate, that was such a moving eulogy; perhaps the most moving that i have ever heard. I am so very sorry for your loss. I am glad that you have found happiness in light of the events and your attitude towards your mother’s passing has been outstanding; certainly better than I can imagine myself being in your situation.
I am sure that your mother would be very proud to have a son such as yourself who, i am sure, shared her sense of humor with yourself.
Once again, I am glad that you have found comfort in the passing of your mother.
looking forward to hearing you soon on MBW,
kentor
Hi Andy, I saw this just before I listened to MBW (I’m a little behind) where you talked about this photo. We don’t know each other personally nor have we met, but the photo & eulogy seemed to be such a fitting tribute. This picture is worth countless words. Even if you were Joe Nobody & I came across this posting, I would still feel the same way: This is MOM, no doubt about it. There are snapshots (drunk college students goofing off), photos with captions (news, feature, bios, etc), & the cover of [insert favorite mag] (Time or National Geographic come to my mind) that needs no explanation, heading, or caption.
Just an image. No introductions or descriptions.
No, forget that, not just an image, but a frozen moment in time where anyone can feel like the one standing there, looking at this scene. As if that was THEIR mother posing on that beach.
That’s how I felt seeing this for the first time, without listening to MBW or reading the rest of the story.
If only I ever have the chance to do the same for my Mom.
Take care.