last photo of Momma, just turned 90

Momma's Deathing In the 4-person hospital room One tiny spoonful at a time ~"I don't want to eat if I have to be spoon-fed".   Even when gently wiping a bit of food from her face, her hands tremble uncontrollably. Gently assisted into the lift-chair and wheeled to the bathroom ~"I don't want to live if I can't walk".   It is hard to even move her into a different position to relieve her sore bedridden hips.

She can hardly wake up any more, despite the endless lights.   After the fact, I find out that she had been treated for aspiration pneumonia.   The nurses and doctors were very kind and caring, but that was against her will ~ and mine, as her Representative.   Despite recovering from the infection, it has sapped all of her remaining life-strength.

In a single room at the end of the hall

In the blessed dark, my beloved mother is dying.   No death rattle, but her face is almost purple from the intense heat she is releasing.   In my head, I hear her voice ~ 'get me the hell out of here'.   I wet cloths with cold water to lay on her forehead, but the most important task is to phone her MAiD doctor (M).   It is time ~ actually past time, and I do not want her to struggle through the days of dying that I sometimes saw on the hospice unit.

Excellent timing ~ at that moment, M was in the process of phoning the travel agent to go to his own granddad's funeral; but was halted by the thought that there might be patients who would need his help while he is gone, and he should check in with them.   "Let me make sure that I can get the meds and I will phone back" ~ "it's a go, meet you at 7 pm".   I would have chosen a bit earlier time, but I wanted my son to be able to join us.   [I note that Momma had already signed a waver that allowed me to choose the time of her MAiD death if she lost capacity ~ which she did very quickly.]

The portcath is ready.   My son and I each hold one of Momma's hands, while I sing her a death lullaby.   M begins with the first medication, and then the second.   Momma stops breathing before he is finished ~ she was so ready to leave this world.   We all greet the silence of her death.

Coming home

The hospital insists that Momma go to the morgue before being picked up by the hired transport folks (via a friendly funeral director from Earth's Options).  M gets a call that he needs to sign papers ~ strange, he didn't seem to know that he had to signed the Medical Certificate of Death!  

I had originally hoped to take Momma to her own home, but that isn't possible in the end.   My son comes to help me move furniture around so that we can get the gurney into my bachelor apartment.   A 'By My Own Heart and Hand' student arrives a bit later, and we wait for Momma's body to arrive so we can do her deathcare.

Waiting, waiting, waiting ~ no one seems to know why.   The friendly funeral director calls several times, each time offering hope that the morgue will release the body soon.   Eventually my deathcare helpers need to leave ~ multiple buses home, and work tomorrow morning.   The transport people are at the morgue for over 3 hours, before they receive Momma's body.

Up through the basement door and the elevator: in this sense, it is good that it was midnight ~ no one around to freak out about a body being brought into the building!   They leave the gurney, which I am so thankful for ~ I have a stretcher, but its legs are too short for this purpose.

I peel back the white plastic bag, remove her hospital gown, wash the front of her stiffening body, and cover her with a blanket printed with a 'tree of life' ~ seems right, as she intends to reincarnate.   She lies right across from my desk, just behind my bed, and on the way to the bathroom ~ lots of opportunities to kiss her forehead or lay my hand on her chest through most of 4 days.   Nothing more is needed ~ it was time for both of us, and such a blessing!

Two days later, when Momma is out of rigor mortis, my son and student come to help with the full deathcare.  Both of them are health care aides, so they know their stuff about dealing with bodies that can't help.  Because of having to wait through rigor, we can't close Momma's mouth.   I almost cry when my son gently picks Momma up by the shoulders (to wash behind her neck) and says "Gramma, I am just giving you a hug". She would be horrified that after washing her hair, I didn't put curlers in; but I don't have any and don't have time to go get hers.   So, she has tight permed curls that she hated.   A bit of lipstick ~ my mother had the most luscious lips almost to the end, and she loved to emphasis them: a whisk of mascara ~ something she didn't wear in later life, but it kinda made up for not seeing her brilliant blue eyes.

Momma lying in honour

Next day, CINDEA's 'dead man' (actor) comes to help me shroud Momma in my death shroud.  She wanted a plum silk sheet; but there are none in Victoria, and I didn't get around to ordering it soon enough.   Still, she would be happy with violet cotton sateen.

Paperwork

Down to the Vital Statistics office to hand in the Medical Certificate of Death and the Registration of Death documents in order to get a final disposition permit.   The door is locked: no one answers me pushing the buzzer over and over.   After several minutes, I hear a voice saying "go to the Service BC Centre".   At the other end of town, I hand the documents to the clerk who has never had someone register their own parent's death before; but he takes the papers, promising to send them to the Vital Statistics office and get the final disposition permit ~ I am very clear about that being the document I needed.

Off I go to Royal Oak Burial Park to arrange for a green burial in their Woodlands.   All goes well, except that they don't take debit cards ~ I will need to get a certified cheque, since I don't own a credit card.   Back to the Service BC Centre, and the clerk hands me Vit Stats' summary of the Registration of Death information ~- not what I asked for!!!   Nothing more I can do today, so home I go to finish working on Momma's funeral ceremony.

Next day, things conspire so that I am late getting to the bank, late getting to Royal Oak with the certified cheque, and late to the Service BC Centre ~ in fact, they are locking the doors when I get there.   The security guard takes pity on me, and goes to get the clerk who then hands me the proper permit ~ Hurrah!   Mad rush then to Royal Oak before they close, so that we can legally bury my mother the next day.   Really, one needs more than one person to do all of this ~ well, also, one needs to have some idea, in advance, of what can go wrong!!!

Burying My Mother

Mary J. Giordano dancer-artist 1934-2025

The transport people come to fetch Momma's body in the morning ~ it is hard to see her covered up with that white plastic bag again, but I am ready to let go of her body.   I prepare for her graveside ceremony. Cars file in a procession to the Woodlands ~ to find Momma in her violet satin-cotton shroud, face revealed, lying on a thin wooden board surrounded by evergreen branches.   There is a wooden platform around the grave (January - rain-soaked ground in Victoria) also surrounded by evergreen branches. It was important to me that everyone see Momma's face ~ to know that it was really her that we are burying; for the reality of her death to sink in.   My son helps me covered her face just before she is lowered into the grave.   Son, daughter, and myself ~ each lay a deep red rose on her chest.   My sister-in-law drums as Momma's body is lowered.   [Later, I realize that I had forgotten one of her requests ~ that she have a sandwich for the Underworld!]

I welcome and honour the spirits, the elements and the creatures of this land; and ask that they honour her:

"That you take her life into your own,
That she may live on within the green ones
And the nourishment that they offer
The creatures of these Woodlands."

Thud! Thud! Thud in the ground: thud in our hearts.   Almost everyone takes a turn in shoveling the dirt into the grave ~ then my son and I continue, making sure that no part of Momma is left uncovered.   We cannot fill the grave, as the dirt is too wet and heavy; but we are content to allow the cemetery workers to do the rest.

I sing the song she requested ~ "We are moonbeams" ~ one I wrote 5 decades ago.   I read the poem I wrote 1 decade ago, about what I thought I would feel about my mother's death and home funeral.   I was right:

"…Take her not from me,
Until the last essence of who she was is truly gone,
And I have captured only what she left for me ~
In this hand and heart. "

Momma was a ballroom dance teacher and an artist. "And…Know that, …. You will be forever in our hearts, blessing our lives. And we will see you in every splash of rainbow colour And wild dancing of the winds. Your spirit makes its final journey into the Mystery That both haunted and hallowed your soul…." It is hard to walk away, but I do not mourn.   It is done, and our soul ~ Momma's and mine ~ is at peace. In honour of Mary Jean Giordano dancer-artist 1934-2025

Momma at 22 in the dance studio