“…and thus, my mother’s death is woven into my life.” ~Bonnie A. McKeegan
It is with profound humility, gratitude, and grief that I walk beside my father into his widowhood. My life meant to ease the sorrow and suffering of others.
My beautiful, courageous, and adventurous mother died at home peacefully, held with love by me and my father, on Monday, February 5th, 2018. Our loving presence and care meant to ease her transition into the bliss of eternity. Her mind, body, and spirit’s long private battle with breast cancer over.
In January I wrote the following (originally titled The Pink One but edited to the actual rose’s color by my mother who loved the story):
The White One
An early spring rain drove me inside. My mother’s roses could wait another day to be pruned. Never again would I hear her voice telling me the story of planting and naming the white one “Janice,” after her breast cancer support group friend who didn’t make it.
“Janice didn’t make it, but I did.”
My mother tended that bush nearly to the end. Twenty years of spring blooms, that bush and my mother had lived through, believing there’d be twenty more.
It’s my turn to tend the roses, for Janice, my mother, and my friend Millie, too.
Breast cancer be damned!
Bonnie A. McKeegan January 2018
*format inspired by 101words.org and rejected with the following explanation, which I contemplate deeply as I write my first memoir: There is some potential for interesting character development. However, the piece has no conflict or desire or obstacles against which the narrator can test herself and grow. Also, the piece suffers from being too sentimental, and that detracts from any sorrow or emotion that the reader feels for this person. It’s more of a character sketch right now than a story; and I think for revision you might look at expanding the piece to a short story.
The day before my mother died, Sunday, February 4th, 2018 I planted my favorite rose – a First Prize Hybrid Tea Rose – in my mother’s sunny garden – Large, double, rose-pink flowers feature a center that is blended with ivory. Very fragrant. Handsome dark green foliage.
Today I face writing my mother’s obituary. But first, I need to walk in her gardens and water the draught thirsty soil with my tears. And prune the roses.
*featured photo credit: Bonnie A. McKeegan – taken in my mother’s sunny garden
If this post touched your heart you may like 5 Things To Expect When Your Mother Dies #mom #breastcancer #grief
*Quotes of Wisdom – a Friday at 9am (Pacific Time Zone) series offering Wisdom, Feel Good, Inspirational and Thought-provoking Quotes. Sometimes with links and most likely, with too many thoughts of my own included.
As always, thank you for visiting! Feel free to like, comment, share, follow my journey or re-blog as your heart and mind desire. Namaste