Seeing Through the Cracks

Chapter 31

Today is Mother's Day, and I wake feeling so happy to have both of my sons at home with me. I can hear the guys, busy in the kitchen preparing a special breakfast. I walk downstairs and am given my cup of coffee to drink in the living room as they continue to cook. I bring my cell phone with me, a habit developed as a result of Jake needing me as a lifeline in the past several months. And since Barb has been so ill, I check it even more regularly. I open it to look for this morning's messages, and there's a text from Barb's sister, Lynn. I read it in absolute disbelief.

It reads, "Barb went into cardiac arrest at 10:00 p.m. last night, and suffered catastrophic brain damage. It is unlikely that she will survive. Will keep you posted."

I scream like a fatally-wounded animal, and then burst into hysterical tears.

Nick, Jake, and Brian all rush into the room asking, "What's wrong?" I can barely catch my breath. I share the horrendous news between gasps of shock and horror. Immediately, we are all hugging and sharing in this jarring news, deep in our sorrow.

Although it was clear that Barb was still struggling to recover from the pneumonia and the weeks on the respirator, none of us saw it culminating in this tragic moment. We're all stunned and deeply saddened by the news. Our day will now be spent waiting to hear news of Barb's inevitable passing, and celebrating Mother's Day now takes on a more sombre tone.

Mid-afternoon my cell phone rings and I know what's coming. My heart sinks before I answer. It's Barb's youngest sister, Alison.

"Barb is gone," she tells me, and I erupt into tears.

"We were all together, gathered around her hospital bedside, playing music and sharing stories, and then Barb passed peacefully while listening to Neil Young," Alison tells me through her own tears.

"I am so sorry," is all that I can muster. The call is brief and Alison says that she will be in touch again soon.

I am thoroughly broken-hearted at the news and I feel an enormous void. I feel so badly for Barb's mother and her sisters who are left behind to deal with their massive grief and loss. I can tell Brian, Nick, and Jake, are feeling their own personal pain. Barb is gone. It's so hard to absorb this truth. I honour the loss and I take the time I need to feel my sorrow. I spend my afternoon shedding more tears. This release is only the beginning; grief comes in waves over time. I also need to find a space to appreciate the woman that Barb was and the many wonderful memories she has left in my heart. I am so grateful for the time that I spent with her last Sunday; I see now it was an incredible gift. It helps to ease some of the pain. I have closure in that special time that we shared. Neither of us knew it then, but we were already saying our good-byes.

We make the best of Mother's Day, and take comfort in each other's presence. I think of Iris often through the remainder of the day, and the cruel irony of this day. As a mother, my heart aches for her. I can't even imagine the pain and sorrow she must now carry.

After dinner I take Nick and Jake home, and we part knowing that we will be together again very soon to attend Barb's funeral. It has been a bittersweet day.

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The following week my heart feels heavy, and the house feels too quiet and empty during the day. Selfishly, I wish that Jake was still living at home, so that I wouldn't be so alone with my grief. I find myself immersed in reading online news articles about Barb's passing. I gather together and send some of the photographs I had taken of Barb to her family. They will use these, along with many others for a memorial slide show. I search the online archives and watch videos of Barb speaking at formal events that she had participated in, much as Jake did upon accepting the loss of Monty Oum. I am reminded of her remarkable intelligence and wisdom; I revel in the sound of her voice and her laughter and her light sense of fun that shines through the screen. And I cry. The world has lost a bright light, but not before she left her unmistakable mark. Barb was an outstanding individual who did more with her life to create positive change and open doors for many, than most able-bodied individuals have ever done. I am filled with many great memories, so many unbelievably awesome moments, and I feel extremely blessed to have known Barb, and to have called her friend.

I worry about Jake. He is sensitive and feels so deeply, and it is only recently that he has begun to fully express the grief he'd locked up inside for years. He's just begun such a wonderful new path, and I pray that this loss doesn't steer him down a darker one. I also hope that he will find a way to release his sorrow. I know that he loved Barb deeply. Nick seems to be able to compartmentalize loss in his own way, with an inner knowing that this is the way life shifts and moves, and he seems to be able to make peace with that. Nick will keep his feelings to himself and show an outer strength. I'm never sure what is locked up in there, but in the past he has shown that he can handle sad news with a strength that helps him endure it. I have never sheltered him or Jake from death or funerals. Jake has always been more fragile with his feelings, while Nick comes across as strong and able to handle loss with grace and acceptance. He may at times try to be stoic, but I believe he understands that I always have a shoulder to lean into, if ever he needs one. Brian too is sensitive, but he wears his emotions on his sleeve. I have always appreciated that in him. We can cry together unabashedly, even if it's over a sappy television commercial or a sad movie, passing one another a tissue with full awareness that our tears are a necessary release. He is both strong and soft at the same time.

The following weekend we attend the funeral for Barb, which is held in a large cathedral in Toronto. There are five hundred in attendance, all paying their respects to someone who made a difference in their lives, big and small. We are invited to sit in the front pews of the church, along with family and close friends. We feel honoured by this request. More importantly, we want to be within range of providing our support to Barb's mother and her sisters. It is a beautiful, touching tribute, with speakers and singers who pay homage to Barb's life with their words and their music. The heartfelt words and angelic songs produce an aura of divinity in the cathedral. We attend the very moving burial service at the cemetery, and then a private reception at an estate close by. There are more speeches, but there is music, always music; Barb loved music. Jake is emotional and it is clear that he has been deeply affected by the loss. I breathe a small sigh of relief amid my own tears to see him express his anguish and accept the comforting embraces from those around him. As much as I want to protect and shelter him from his grief, his expression of tears shows great strength and a willingness to face this loss and not bury it. It is an immensely sad day for all of us. It is also a day of celebration for a life in which each of us is so very proud to have played a part.