We had to say goodbye to Brian's mom, Cathy on Dec. 19 of this year. While we had been preparing for this moment for months, it still hit us pretty hard. Brian's mom was diagnosed with Stage 3 lung cancer several months ago. The diagnosis came as no surprise given how long she had been a smoker. The doctors told her that they were going to treat it aggressively because there was some hope of her beating it. And knowing Cathy, we thought that there was some truth in that hope. You see for as long as I've known Cathy (13+ years), she has been sick off and on. She had been on a roller coaster ride of sickness and health. And I'm not talking just minor illnesses; she has had some major health battles. We always teased her saying that she was a Cat with nine lives. She always seemed to beat whatever was coming at her. I just thought she would continue to beat poor health. I know it is naive to think that, but I still did, even though I know lung cancer is majorly serious. 
She was up and down with chemo. The dose that did the most good, put her in bed for days. The dose that let her function, didn't phase the tumors. She was in and out of the hospital, and even seemed to be knocking on death's door some days. But then she'd have a good day. And she would tell us that she felt better than she had felt in a long time and she thought the treatment was making a difference. I know now that she hid some of her worst moments from us in an attempt to shield us. She always tried to put on a good front when we paid her Saturday morning visits. She almost always found the strength to play on the floor with Matthew and show him the turtles. She diligently tried to teach him the chicken dance along with Elmo. She didn't want to show us (and we didn't want to see) the extent of her health's decline.
We were supposed to celebrate Christmas with her on Dec 18. But she called Brian the night before and told him she just wasn't up to it. Brian said that she sounded tired and sick. She wanted a rain check. I told Brian that since she hadn't been feeling good most of the week, then she probably hadn't gotten a chance to record Matthew's story book. She got Matthew a book that she was going to record herself reading to him so that if this was her last Christmas, then at least he would grow up knowing what her voice sounded like. I still get choked up when I hear her in my mind telling me that when she showed me the book the week before.
The sequence of events and details of what happened on the 18th are not all clear to me and it doesn't really matter anyway. Sometime that night Cathy went into respiratory failure. CPR was performed and when the ambulance arrived the EMTs were able to detect a faint pulse. We got a phone call shortly after 10 pm saying that she had died, but they had gotten a faint pulse, so she was on the way to the emergency room. Brian got dressed and drove to the hospital in the sleet. Her heart stopped a couple of times and started back on its own. She was still fighting. But she never regained consciousness. Her vitals were poor and a ventilator was keeping her lungs going. She had told Brian in the past that she did not want to live that way. So after saying his goodbyes, Brian let the doctors turned off the ventilator. Cathy drifted away at 2:20 am on Dec 19.
Even almost 2 weeks later it is still hard to believe that she is really gone. Her funeral was on the 21st. Everyone was so shell shocked at how quickly she went downhill that funeral service planning was kind of a blur. We did lay her to rest according to what wishes we knew of. But we didn't get to have the service that Brian envisioned for his mom. Her service was the last real thing he could do for her. And he doesn't feel like he did his best. A funeral service is supposed to celebrate the life of the person who has left. It is a time for memories to be shared. It is a chance to shape how a person is remembered. Brian is saddened that her service didn't do this. No one got up to share any stories or memories. And honestly I don't know if anyone would have had the composure to do it. I know I wouldn't have, so I am going to memorialize her here in my blog.
I think my relationship with Cathy had many things in common with her relationships with her other loved ones. So I am sure that many of them will be able to identify with some of my feelings. My relationship with Cathy wasn't long in the span of her lifetime. But I do feel that in 13 years I got to know her pretty well and came to love her. I certainly had my ups and downs with Cathy. She was as stubborn as they come. When she got her mind set on something there wasn't anything you could say that would change it. That dogged determination was an obstacle when you were trying to convince her to do something for her own good (like go to the hospital when she didn't want to), but that same determination is what gave her the fight to overcome so many ailments. She could infuriate me at times to the point where I saw red, but she could also touch my heart so deeply that all I saw were tears. Through my relationship with Brian I got to witness her trials with battling sicknesses and prescription pill addictions and I got to witness her triumphs with getting clean and trying to get a handle on her health. Sometimes in death people remember only the good or only the bad. I know Cathy would want to be remembered realistically with both the good and the bad.
I have some regrets when it comes to Cathy. I am sure that I am not alone in that respect. Sometimes I let my anger over her choices get the best of me. I know her decisions made many of her loved ones furious. We all loved her and wanted what was best for her, but she didn't seem to always want what was best for herself. I regret that sometimes I let my anger get out of hand and I may have hurt her feelings. I regret that sometimes anger over her choices kept us apart. I regret that we didn't spend more time with her in the end, and I especially regret that we didn't go see her anyway on the 18th regardless of how she felt. We won't ever get that opportunity back. I regret that we never got around to videotaping her message to Matthew. I regret that we didn't take enough pictures with her and Matthew. I regret that every memory we will ever have of her is already made; there will be no new memories. But I will never regret knowing her and becoming a part of her family. I will never regret the things I learned from her - like don't take good health for granted, make the most of what you have, and love with all your heart.
Cathy was a special woman. She had an amazing patience when it came to elderly people. She loved to take care of them. She had a gift for it. It takes a special kind of person to look after people in the end stages of their lives. She also had that same kind of patience for children. All her nieces and nephews loved their Aunt Cat Cat. She wasn't afraid to act silly and play with the kids. She always had some toy or activity for the kids when they came to her house. Her love of children is something that became crystal clear to me once she realized Brian and I were serious about each other. When she realized that I was in this for the long haul, she began talking about wanting to be a grandma. She didn't just talk about having grandbabies, she began shopping for grandbabies. She bought bottles, toys, clothes, books, etc. She really wanted a grandchild to love and spoil. She talked about teaching her future grandchild to fish and hoping that child would love fishing as much as she did. (Cathy was a wonderful fisherwoman.) Of course in the beginning of this persistent conversation about babies, Brian and I weren't even married yet. And it drove me crazy - all the baby talk. Cathy thought we might never get married.
After waiting for us to get married for 9 years, she began to give up hope of ever having grandchildren. I will never forget how happy she was when we called her to tell her that we were pregnant. She was beyond thrilled. And I remember how her heart broke with ours when we lost that baby.
When we told her we were expecting again, she was elated. She called often to check on me and her grandbaby. She talked to my belly, introducing herself as "your crazy grandma" to the baby. She rubbed my belly, always anxious to feel her little grandbaby moving. But he wasn't cooperating; anytime he sensed her touching my stomach he would quit turning somersaults. I can close my eyes and still remember when she went to the doctor with us to see him on the ultrasound. Cathy tried to convince the doctor to tell us what name we had picked out (the doctor didn't know either). She was so amazed watching him wiggle around on the screen and when she got to hear his heartbeat she teared up. I think making her a grandma made her the happiest woman in the world. When Matthew finally arrived, she glowed. That first month, she called nearly everyday to check on us and talk to him. Whenever we would visit her she would act silly just to try to get a smile out Matthew. And when he finally got big enough to show some affection back with slobbery kisses, she was in heaven. She was in love with being a grandma. I am heartbroken that Matthew is only going to know her love through stories we share with him. For whatever faults Cathy had, she sure loved deeply and with her whole heart. And Matthew is going to miss out on knowing that love first hand.
Brian was talking with one of his aunts as he packaged up his mom's belongings. Brian got to reminisce as he looked through pictures. As he packed her things into a box, he got to see what things she really valued. Through all of her moves and hardships the things that mattered enough to hold onto - a box of adjustable rings that Brian bought her when he was on a field trip in elementary school, mother's day cards, Brian's baby book. Brian and Terry discussed how sad it is that an entire life can be reduced to boxes to be stored in someone's attic. But as I thought about that sad fact I came to the conclusion that Cathy's life is not reduced to boxes of belongings packed away in our attic. She was more than her stuff when she was alive and she is more than that now that she is gone. She lives on in our memories, stories and hearts. She lives on through the lives of her son and grandson and everyone else who loved her. 
Cathy was a daughter, a sister, a friend, an aunt, a mom and a grandma. She served in each of these roles and was loved by those who saw her as these things. She will be missed terribly, forgotten never, and loved forever. Cathy, I as your daughter-in-law, want to say thank you for your part in my two greatest joys - Brian and Matthew. Without you, Brian wouldn't be the man he is today and I might not have fallen in love with him. If that hadn't happened, then I might not have Matthew. As the mother of a precious little boy, I see how a mother loves her son. And regardless of how it came out at times, I know that you loved Brian with all your heart. We love you and miss you.
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