Thursday, May 08, 2008 Westminster, Colorado
Ten years ago today, short of an hour or two, my brother Peter, and I said goodbye to our Mother for the last time. I had come to California a week or so prior and by the time I got to Mill Valley Mom was already taking steps on that last road home. The first day I was there, I think she recognized me. ‘Jerry’ she said? Later on in the week she grasped my hand one last time with strength gathered from beyond the pale. ‘My dear one,’ she said. Other than that, Peter and I sat with her… sang to her… read to her… and spoke self consciously to each other. It was a rare moment of sharing. My brother and I were never close and I will take some of the blame for that. In this last week of life, however, we were there together for our Mother.
My Mother was many things… a complicated woman. At heart though, I believe she looked for simple satisfactions, many of which seemed to elude her in life. In some of our conversations in the last year of her life she would say things like, ‘I wish I could believe.’ That made me sad. I hope she had something she could believe in. She probably did, but I didn’t know.
Dad was gone much of my early childhood. Mom taught me many ‘dad’ things… camping, bike riding, fishing and the like. My grandfather Ben, her father, taught me to work with tools and although I did not realize it at the time, he taught me that if you work hard enough and believe, almost anything is possible… that and to accept setbacks with equanimity. Mom had her share of intellectual pretensions and I fear I have inherited a hearty helping of these. She also passed on a love of reading and a deep appreciation for art in all its many forms. I try to hold on to my inheritance of these.
Peter and I went to the flower shop in Mill Valley to get Mom some flowers. Mother’s Day was upon us. When we came back twenty minutes later, her pain was gone, her longing for the company of old friends was gone, and she too was gone, gone, gone. Such was the passing of her life. She did not outlive her children, and that is, I believe, as it should be.
On April 27, 1998 I called the old number at Mom and Dad’s house. The nurse said, ‘Oh she can’t come to the phone anymore.’ My brother Peter said, ‘If you want to be able to say goodbye, you better get here soon.’ With soon in mind, I went the next day but before I did as my eyes shuttered with tears, I wrote this song.
Song For Our Mother
April 27, 1998
Fur Peace Ranch
Meig’s Co, OH
Strength unto my life she was before I was a man
Daddy’s off to fight the wars in some far-off distant land
He don’t come around much just at special times of year
But Mama always holds our hands and puts away our fears
Come and take a walk she’d say down by that old Pierce Mill
And listen to the water passing by the rocks and rills
That old grey goose will bite you but you can feed the ducks
Trust your heart in all you do, you won’t have to trust in luck
Refrain
Mama tried to teach us to be strong
And keep walking against the wind even though your hope is gone
It don’t matter how alone you are today
‘Cause if you keep on walking hard you’ll find a better way
Many years have come and gone, now that I’m a man
My bro and I are all that’s left in this part of our clan
Daddy won’t be coming back, he’s fought his final war
And Mama’s eyes look far away for some distant shore
She wanders in her mind now to that old tobacco farm
When she was just a girl at play in my grandfather’s arms
He strokes her hair with loving hands and sends her on her way
To walk across this century which brings us to today
Refrain
My brother sits beside her bed and holds her hand so tight
He looks upon her shuttered eyes, will she make it through the night
The what she is remains today, the who she is is gone
But what she’s done in both our lives I know will linger on
Her favorite books are closed now, her favorite song’s been sung
For her boys who stay behind here she’s done all than can be done
She’s going to see her friends now that have vanished for so long
She’s on the road beyond the stars
She’s going... going... gone
I saw my brother one more time, as I recollect, at Mom’s interment. He is living his life as I am living mine and I wish him and his family well. Since I wrote Mama’s Song, our clan has grown and we both have kids. He now has a lovely wife and two children. Mom would have loved that. Vanessa and I have a little daughter named after my Mother. Mom’s middle name was Love and our daughter is Israel Love. She is growing so fast and looks at the world with open and amazed eyes. ‘I am here,’ she seems to say. ‘Watch me grow!’ Beatrice would have loved that girl. My son Zachary will be joining me in a week or two on a trip to Alaska. The boy is reading at an eleventh grade level and he is not quite eleven years old. He has good blood in his veins. Mom would have loved him too. ‘Take that boy into the world and let him taste adventure,’ she could easily have said. Being a Mother of boys, she was always a little suspicious of other women… often with good reason. She came to accept Vanessa as a loved and loving member of our family and she would loved where Vanessa is today.
When someone dies, their possibilities die with them. Their song is sung. That said, the teaching and wisdom of their experience has very long legs indeed and with the infinite blessings of G_d, flows into the river of life that is in the blood of their loved ones. Mom’s cat Mimi came home with me after Mom passed and she has been living with us ever since. Sometimes I think she channels Bea. She gets a look that is, well, reminiscent of Mom herself.
We all fulfill our destiny in our lives and in our deaths. I still miss my parents every day. I miss their wit, their understanding, their complaints and their love. I miss our conversations. I will always miss them and I will try to live my life in such a way that were they here I could tell them proudly of my adventures. Once more, as Werner Johnson said at my Dad’s memorial: ‘Fair wind and following seas!’
Always!
Always! And always for you, Beatrice Love Levine…
In Many Houses
In many houses
all at once
I see my mother and father
and they are young
as they walk in.
Why should my
tears come,
to see them laughing?
That they cannot
see me
is of no matter:
I was once
their dream:
now
they are mine.