I can't stop crying after reading that. It is so wonderful that Victor let his mom die at home. When he is passed the grief and sorrow he will realize what a wonderful gift this was to her. He will eventually accept her death through the love of friendship with other people who truly understand this loss. True friendship is the only thing that can replace the love of a mom or dad. I hope he is not thinking that the pain will stay with him forever. The pain will slowly subside as he talks and writes through his feelings and memories of their relationship. What will remain will be a wonderful mosaic of images and feelings of her love in his heart and mind.

I understand this so much. My mother died in August 2004. I've cried for her ever since. Sometimes I find myself just shouting out of the blue: "My mother!" The family has gotten used to it. I've learned it's best not to talk about her or even to look at her picture or even to look at the memoriam I have of her on my website. Tears are always ready to flow. She's ended up in all my writings in some ways and even found her way into my novel. Victor, I honestly don't know if one can ever get out of that grief.

-C

Thank you for the lovely comments. I think writing is perhaps the one way I can deal with Mom's loss in a rational way (if that makes any sense). I have roughly planned out some stories about her, but it has not been easy. Maybe it never will be.

I lost my mother 17 years ago and at times it seems like yesterday. Comfort comes to me when I know that I am who I am because of her, of how she raised me, and how she nurtured me and my brothers and my father. And as I look at my own children I see a bit of both of my parents. That grounds me and strengthens me. And I silently thank them and smile. That's how I cope.

Victor, first of all, may you only hear good news from now on.

My father died in 1976, and my mother in 1987. That's a long time in a life, and still I'm not reconciled to their loss or absence. Even though both my mother and father would be 99 this year had they lived, and even though I feel reassured that they are both in Heaven, I would have been happier to know that they would have seen their two grandsons alive before them, calling them Nana and Zeideh. My boys never had that opportunity, and though I've striven to teach my sons about my parents, if they do indeed know them, they know them through me. It's a pitiful substitute, but it's the best I can do.

Consider that, Victor. Your little girl knew grandma, and still gets to see grandpa.

I understand what you write here. I'm sitting on the chair my dad brought in from Brooklyn College one summer day, as he announced triumphantly that he too, had "gone to college". The chair is in front of the desk this desktop is on, made from damned hard wood and over forty years old, the birthday present that went with the chair.

Time will heal you, but it will not necessarily heal you quickly. From what little I've read of your comments, you try to give your daughter the one blessing that you can pass on from your mother - your love. Keep doing that and if you have more kids, tell them stories, lots of stories, of their grandma and grandpa. We all need heroes, your offspring included.

A beautiful essay.

Again, may you only hear good news from now on.

Perhaps this may be of some use to you, Victor.

I was born in 1987, my mother died three years later. Today in 2007 I have no memories of her, being to young at the time of her death. What I do have, however, are the tales that both my father and grandparents dispense whenever I feel a need to ask them about this mysterious figure that gave birth to me and led my infant self through the first crucial years of my life.

It did not strike me with any great force until about the age of fifteen/sixteen how much hurt my father and grandparents must have experienced as a result of her passing. I am twenty years old now, my mother was this age when she gave birth to me. What inspires me most is the remarkable effort that my father put into securing the best lives possible for his two sons despite the loss of a much loved one.

Your determination and strength in never surrendering to the abyss will be rewarded in time. You know this I am sure, perhaps I needed to say this more than you needed to hear it.

Your mother lives on in you and your daughter.

Graham

Your comments are very helpful. Thanks to all of you for your sensitivity and insight. I am trying to see the positive side of things despite still feeling very down most of the time.

Victor,

I can understand what you are going through- I lost my mother around two weeks before you lost yours and you so elequently expressed some of my own thoughts in this memoriam piece. When the anniversary of my mom's passing came, it was a bit of a sullen day but, I too, took comfort in knowing that she died where she wanted to be- not in a hospital but in my sister's house, surronded by those who love her...that gives me great comfort.

I miss her, remember her and am grateful for her love of life and the gifts she gave to me.

God bless,
jim