About a year ago Dr. Kathleen Huebner lost her mother. Actually the process might have started a year before that.
"During our final year together," Kathleen told this blog, "Mom often said that she was 'ready to go.' She missed my father and her own parents." Yet, not long before her mother started to withdraw from the world, the two drove together from Philadelphia to Tucson, Arizon, where they started a new life in a warm and dry climate. They had been living together since Kathleen's father died seven years earlier.
Kathleen's story of loss is compelling because some assume that super-achievers are shielded from the pain of profound grief. After all, they have their work as pain-absorbers. Not so, though, we find out.
A national leader in the education and rehabilitation for those who are blind/visually impaired, Kathleen has published the books and articles which have helped prepare teachers & mobility specialists to effectively teach those who are blind/visually impaired of all ages.
Yet, Kathleen shares on Facebook with friends from Seton Hill University (Class of 1967), like myself, that she continues to feel the daily loss of her mother. We observe that she is experimenting with ways to heal.
For example, she has composed mosaics of the family photo history. This month she journeyed back to New England, where she grew up, to revisit what had been. In November she will journey to the New York Metro area to spend time with her former college roommate Irene Nunn, former colleagues, and myself.
This interview captures where Kathleen is now with her loss. From it we Baby Boomers who are also struggling with grief might find that we are not alone.
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JG: Your mourning is intense. Why do you think that is so, Kathleen?
KH: My mom and I became very close when my dad passed away. We did everything together since his passing. During that time I got to know her as a woman. I observed her in a totally different way.
We became friends, in addition to mother and daughter. I think that I learned as much from her during those last seven years as I did in the previous 60. I think my loss is so intense and enduring because I admired and really liked the person she was.
JG: Tell us about your mom.
KH: My mom grew up and spent her life, until my dad passed away, in a little town in Easthampton, Massachusetts. Her life consisted of her husband, children, family, church, and friends.
She was a working mom. She was a blue collar worker in New England mills. Her last job, she was very proud to say, was as an assistant in a chemical lab.
Mom sewed the clothes for my sister and myself and knitted all our sweaters. In her later years she volunteered at the hospital and started a church group to visit folks who were confined to their homes. She was kind, generous, thoughtful, and supportive. She was a strong self advocate, hated to cook, loved to bake. She was always busy. She was always there for her two daughters. She didn't go to one performance that we might be in, she went to all of them. She loved classical music. [Kathleen was a voice major at Seton Hill University.)
She ran the household. And it was such a loving one. Until the day my father died, my parents held hands. And you could easily catch them smooching. He admired that she could keep everything in an organized manner. One day I asked my dad why was he so obliging to my mom, even when I thought she was being unreasonable. He looked at me and said, "It is simple. I love her." That said it all.
JG: What works for you on your bad days of missing your mom?
KH: What works for me on my bad days? I wish I knew. It varies.
Sometimes just thinking how lucky I was to have her as my mom and to have those last years together when I got to know her as a woman and not just my mom.
Sometimes keeping busy helps, even though it is during those times I would rather do nothing.
JG: What doesn't work?
KH: If I give in to my feelings of LOSS. During the final year, mom let me know that I should prepare to go it alone in this world. At the end she simply did not have the energy to do much. She had her "chores" but could no longer do them.
She did not want a prolonged and difficult death. She prayed to go quickly in her sleep. Which exactly what she did. Her heart just stopped. Unfortunately I was not with her at that moment. I found her in bed on a Saturday morning. I had thought that she was just sleepng in.
I often think about how she went and that she did not suffer, except perhaps for an instant. On good days I take comfort in her peaceful passing.
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It's palpable that Kathleen is sorting through her understanding of life and death. Because of that she has been uniquely compassionate with her friends who also are going through this game-changing experience of mourning. For instance, she was there, at all hours, for me when I had to put to sleep my feline buddy Jason. She led me through the process of adopting a new animal companion, so late in life. Despite her own grief, she's there for those she cares about. Just like her mother.
Kathleen can be reached through this blog (mgenova981@aol) and we will pass the message along to her.
Mary Huebner was an angel on earth. Thank you, Kathy, for sharing your mother with so many of us. Time spent with the two of you was always filled with fun, laughter and endless stories. Thank you for those special memories.
Posted by: Glinda | 09/25/2013 at 11:24 PM
Glinda, thank you. I remember when mom, dad, you, Rod and I had lunch in that Italian restaurant near the Maryland School for the Blind, and Rod first stated that she was an "angel on earth ". I had never heard anyone say that about her, but it was true. When mom died so many people wrote and said the same thing. She was the best. She so enjoyed the books you gave her and I still have them.
Posted by: Kathleen Huebner | 09/25/2013 at 11:41 PM