Two Different Ways

Most people are lucky to have a strong female influence in their childhood.  I was lucky enough to have two.  One was my mother, a single woman running her own business, living on a farm with a myriad of animals and taking care of a human son.  The second was my great aunt, Mona, in Los Angeles.  She never had any children of her own, but spoiled me like a mo-fo.  She would use any holiday as an excuse to ship boxes of presents up my way.  She would write letters to me as herself, her pets, and other random characters so I always felt like I had an army of love behind me.  This gift of confidence was invaluable to the shortest kid throughout his school years, the weirdo that came to school with patches on his jeans before they were cool.  My favorite athlete growing up was Joe Montana.  She got me a signed, framed Joe Montana picture for my 10th birthday.  She finally came clean a couple years ago that it was forged, by then I appreciated the gesture more than the resale value.

Both have now passed on.  My mother 5 weeks ago and my aunt just over a week ago.  I just got the call about my aunt today.  With both happening so closely to each other, it definitely gets a person thinking about all kinds of things.  One of the questions that comes up is which type of departure is easier to deal with: a quick, unexpected death or a drawn out, bed-ridden ordeal?

After you accept that there is nothing you can do or say to the person anymore, you can only make sure you did the best with the moments/interactions you had.  Without being able to ask the person posthumously on how they would rate their moments/interactions with you, you are left to your own imagination.  This can open the door for uncontrollable waves of guilt to smash you to the floor.  Without the person there to shut the door, your mind can conjure all sorts of "If I had only..." scenarios.  This can be crippling.

In answering this "which is worse" question, I recognize how lucky I have been in both of my female influences.  The last note that my mother sent me in the mail was, "Joseph Michael Mangan you are a good person/kid.  I love you, Mom."  She also left a note for me to find if  I ever had to go through her things telling me how proud she was of me.  One was a lucky coincidence, a small expression of love.  The other was a planned, planted note that would have otherworldly powers to dispel any shrouds of doubt or guilt.  These are both great individually, but to have both of these gifts is something I know many people do not get to experience.

My aunt was strong until the end, she has been bed-ridden for the last 3 years.    She was able to hang onto her mind the entire time and even wrote down family history accounts about my grandmother, etc. that would have gone extinct with her.  Transferring this tribal knowledge was something I would not have thought of, but I am grateful she had the foresight to put pen to paper.  She was always blunt with me during our conversations, letting me know that she was ready to go.  In her words, it could not come soon enough.  She never let me worry about her.  She did not want her health to impact my life in any way.  Even at the end, she wanted to protect me.  I learned today that even as her health was failing, she would not let anyone reach out to me because she did not want to cause any additional stress in my life.

In the end all you can hope for is closure.  Whether it is a random freak accident or a 3 year battle in a bed,  I think either scenario has equal potential for everlasting heartache and years of regret.  In my situation, with my separate cases coming to a end so closely together, I cannot help but feel fortunate.  Soaking it all in, I cannot help but look at things through this perspective.  When you know you are loved despite your sporadic call record, you becoming your own person, your spotty visiting schedule, what else do you need?

Why let people wonder if you love them when you can tell them?