WP: A Mother's Love, Clarified by George Will

[Ignatius J.]

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/07/12/AR2006071201873.html

I thought this was a pretty amazing piece. It appears to have been an obituary of sorts for his mother. Just goes to show that even if you disagree with what he has to say sometimes, he is apparently a fantastic writer.

One of my favorite pasages:

"In the very elderly the mind can come and go, a wanderer in time, and a disintegrating personality can acquire angers and jagged edges that are, perhaps, protests against a growing lightness of being. No one has come back from deep in that foreign country to report on life there. However, it must be unbearably frightening to feel one's self become light as a feather, with inner gales rising."

[Larry]

Yeah, I've thought for years that Will is thinking of running for Buckly's vacant seat as The Intelligent Conservative.

[iheartskins]

Thanks for posting Ignatius.

[DjTj]

I think I first got deeply interested in politics reading Will's pieces in Newsweek. This was a great one.

He was actually speaking in Pasadena in 2003 and I entered a lottery to get into the event, but I wasn't picked ... although I did see RFK, Jr. speak in that series a few weeks later.

[Barney B]

'"All that we can know about those we have loved and lost," Thornton Wilder wrote, "is that they would wish us to remember them with a more intensified realization of their reality. What is essential does not die but clarifies. The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude." Louise, released from the toils of old age and modern medicine, is restored to clarity."

Wow. You can practically hear the soft, slow ticking of the teardrops as they reach the page he writes this on. Bon voyage, Louise. God bless.

[Henry]

Great story. It reminds me of something I once read here, from my comrade in arms, Tarhog. I hope he doesn't mind, but I think this is the time and place to give his story a well-deserved bump. It's possibly the best Tailgate post I've ever read in my six years here:

http://www.extremeskins.com/forums/showthread.php?t=87616&highlight=waves

I was working on a telemetry unit as a night shift nurse. At about 3 in the morning, a time where things are generally incredibly quiet, I noticed one of my patients, a very small woman in her late 60's. A brain scan earlier that day had revealed she had metastatic cancer nearly everywhere, but the family had decided not to tell her until she was stronger. Although she'd hardly stirred in her bed since I'd gotten there 6 hrs earlier, there she now was, sitting there in her pitch black room, bolt upright in bed, just staring off into nothingness. I went in, and quietly asked her if she was okay. She told me she wanted to tell her family who'd been there earlier something, but they'd think she was crazy, could she tell me about it....maybe I'd know what it meant. And then she did something that strangers don't do...she grabbed both my hands in hers and, gripping them hard said 'its the waves'.

'The waves?' I parroted back stupidly. I immediately figured she was becoming confused, and that I'd probably spend the rest of the night trying to keep her in her room and calm.

'The waves' she said again 'I can see them coming...they come in and lift me up to the ceiling and then I float back down again. They come in over and over again'.

I couldn't escape....she had me there, in a cramped little room, gripping my hands....and she needed to tell me about this, something obviously very personal, and as she herself knew, weird. Something you don't share with a stranger.

Not knowing what to say, I sat down next to her on the bed and didn't say anything at all for a moment. 'Here comes another one' she said, 'hold on'. No waves appeared. I did not levitate.

'Are you okay maam? Do you want me to turn on the lights or call one of your children to stay with you? Do you want me to check you out, take your vital signs, give you something to help you relax and sleep?'. 'No. It feels wonderful. I'm not crazy. I know it sounds that way. But the waves are coming in.'

And then, the question.

'What do you think they mean?'.

Hard gulp. An uncomfortable silence. She'd been admitted for minor GI symptoms and had no idea she'd already received a death sentence ...what was I supposed to tell her....it wasn't my place. But left with no other readily apparent option or comforting platitude, I just said what I was thinking. I couldn't stop myself. 'Do you think it means you're going to die soon?'.

'Yes' she said...'I do think thats what it means'.

I sat there holding hands with that little old lady, really nothing more than a stranger, in this incredibly intimate moment feeling awkward, privileged, sad, and happy at the same time. Happy that sometimes, people see finality coming, and recognize it as the most natural thing in the world. Sad that her loved ones would never hear the peace in her voice or be graced with this confidence. I don't think we shared another word. I finally stood up and turned to go out. 'Thank you for taking the time to be with me' she said.

I came back the next night. She had died just a few hours before I got there for my shift. Her family and physician never said anything to her about her diagnosis.

Whenever I think of her, I picture her on a sun-swept beach...lying back in her lounge chair, watching the waves come in.

[ashburnskinsfan]

I read this in the WP this morning and found it moving too. I lost my father-in-law earlier this year after a long and painful battle with cancer, but he was alert and full of humor to the end. On one of his last nights when he was told a nurse would spend the night with him (to help administer pain relief and attend to his needs), he quipped "I hope she won't be disappointed". Although it was very sad to witness his protracted and painful death, he was fulfilled and happy with his long life, and so his end was less difficult to deal with.

In contrast, my own father is suffering from dementia at an early age, and it's emotionally far harder. You feel totally inadequate and frustrated as you watch someone who was very bright and still has a very healthy body, be entirely lost to his own children and grandchildren, but there is nothing you can do to help.

[chomerics]

Thanks for the greatreads guys, it really strikes home with me today. My grandfather is on his deathbed, and my mother is currently with him waiting for him to die. I do wish he would let go, and be at peace, it is for the best. He lost his wife, my grandmother, about 6 months ago and he has given up. After being married for 50 years, life kinda becomes meaningless without your partner, and he knows this. At 90, he still managed to remove his feeding tube, by himself, and he wants to go. It is times like this, when I really wish people would understand what Kevorkian had in mind with euthenasia, as I think it should be a variable alternative. He did not want to live without his wife of 70 years, and I dont blame him. I would want the same thing if I was in his position.

Hopefully people will understand more about life and death, and what makes every minute that you are alive so precious. I also think for death, people should celebrate someone's life, not agonize in sorrow and misery. I like the Irish wake, where everyone gets drunk and tells stories about the person, it is a good time, a time of rememberence. When I go, that is what I want. I want everyone to have a good time, and to celebrate my life.

[JimboDaMan]

I don't always see eye-to-eye with Will politically, but the man is nothing less than a superb wordsman. That was quite a touching tribute, thank you for posting it.

Henry, thank you for posting Tarhog's experience, I missed it the first time.

And Tarhog, that was an amazing account. Yer a friggin' poet, I tell ya. I am truly in awe of your eloquence.

As my mom lay dying of cancer she was peaceful, but talked repeatedly about doors nobody else in the room could see. She knew we were with her and spoke to us, but much of her attention was focused on people and sights beyond the hospital room and there was no fear at all for what these things might represent. My mom taught me so many things in life, I've always thought her last gift was to teach me how to die when my time comes.

[Guest Gichin13]

Read that piece yesterday. Very moving -- my grandmother had dementia for a while before she passed on and Will definitely captured it well.

[Tarhog]

Thanks Henry and jimbo, appreciate the kind words. I can't think of that lady without getting tears in my eyes. And when my own Mom passed away with all of us at her side a few years ago, remembering her made it just a little easier.

[DeanCollins]

thanks for posting this, and great story tarhog. my neighbors on the mountain, who have become my close freinds in 7 years more like family, who's ages are spread out between mid 70's thru 90's. We just lost Jules three months ago who was 96. Jules was a danish man who grew up in new york city in the 1910's and 20's. I spent hours asking him what it was like. He worked on wall street, for a broker, the week the stock market crashed.

He, like most others his age, was a WWII vet in both europe and pacific theaters. His brother and he owned an oldsmobile/cadillac dealership for decades and he met many famous and prominent people. He climbed the steepest of mountain trails daily in our neighborhood till he was 93', picking blackberries to make pies. the neighbors take turns having the others over for dinner most of the nights of the week and afterward will play cards. Jules always won.

For the last two years he knew he was losing it and he was ready to move on. He took long naps and when asked why, he said to better the chance of passing in my sleep. It was hard for me to

look at his house this spring when I got there. I hope I'll see him again