"Gone"

One of the most difficult things for me this year has been the question of how my mom could simply be Gone.  What does "Gone" mean?  Did my mom simply cease to exist, or is her spirit somewhere, and if so -- where?  I wish I had a defined spiritual belief about what happens after death, but I do not.  Since childhood, despite CCD and weekly Mass, I have questioned religious beliefs about the afterlife and realized that we can't know and don't know what happens when we die.  I suppose this is the most common question after a loved one dies, and that is why spiritual beliefs were developed to begin with.  It's just that those "answers" don't satisfy my skeptical, science-oriented mind, but I long to have answers.

My mom was larger than life.  It sounds cliché and like something one would say out of grief, but it was true even when she was alive.  She had a great intensity and boundless energy.  She knew so much about so many things - art; nature; culture; gardening and cooking and housekeeping; history of all kinds - world history, American history, German history, family history; she was compassionate and active in local politics; she was creative and giving; she was critical, with high expectations for herself and everyone around her.  She was so much.  So much, in fact, that she carried an energy into a room that was palpable.

She was cremated, and her urn is not very big.  Those ashes contain my mom's body, but what about her spirit?  Her energy?  Her knowledge?  Her compassion?  Her intense love?  Where are those things?

If you are hoping to find answers in this post, you will not.  I hope that by asking the questions over and over, some answers will slowly form.  I have some clues.  There are some things I know, some things I believe, and some things I hope.  Those truths and beliefs have helped me figure out a little bit about what "Gone" means.

Here is what I know.  My mom gave of herself to a wide circle of people.  Her memorial service was a testament to this; the church was overflowing, and there were people sobbing who were completely unknown to me.  As Mother Linda+ said in her Burial Office, my mom was not shy about telling people what she felt they needed to hear, be it advice or information or critique.  (And when she gave advice, it was less of a suggestion and more of a directive.)  So I know that the part of my mom that was knowledge has been passed along.  She parceled it out to those she encountered, and so her knowledge now resides with people living far and wide.  Happily, a lot of that knowledge was written down in essays about art, a family history that includes sections of German history, and personal letters.  And somehow, despite years of trying to close my ears to her, I gained a lot of her knowledge as well.

I know that some of the qualities that made my mom are still present because of people remembering them.  Her accent is ingrained in many of my friends' minds, and most likely in her friends' as well.  Her generosity touched certain people especially strongly, and their lives were forever impacted by it.  She spread her spirit around, and pieces of her exist in all those she touched.

Here is what I believe.  My mother was deeply spiritual, and her spiritualism centered itself on nature.  Her religious beliefs involved questioning and searching, but she felt a deep, spiritual connection with nature.  She felt at peace in the woods; she collected stones from hikes and held onto them like talismans; she felt a genuine sense of wonder about every detail of the natural world.  To her, bad weather just meant more clothing; it did not mean staying inside or not going to the beach or not going on a hike.  In fact, she marveled at bad weather.  She said things like, "I savored glorious moments in freezing temperatures and bright sunshine."  She loved telling me details of the "terrific thunderstorm" or "horrendous rain" (two of her favorite terms) as much as she loved describing the "breathtaking sky" or "gorgeous light".  For me, my mom is a part of the world around us.  I believe that the way the wind blows through the trees is an echo of my mom's spirit.  Poet Franz Wright wrote, "Soon I'll be part of all that I now merely see."  I believe that my mom longed to be a part of the world around her - not simply to see it or be treading upon it (I have felt this same way at various times in my life) - and now she is a part of the world.  I believe her spirit has joined with the spirit of the universe.  

What I hope.  Oh, I hope so many things.  Hoping is different than wishing; you can wish for the impossible, but hope exists only within the boundaries of possibility.  I can wish that Omi Helga could see Nick and Alex grow up and be a part of their lives, but my hopes have to be formed within the reality of her being gone.  Still, I find myself hoping for a lot.  I hope that Nicholas doesn't forget my mom.  More than specific memories, I hope he remembers the feeling of her, and the things she taught him about how to live life.  I hope that I can give my kids some of what she would have given them.  I hope that I continue to see signs of my mom's influence and presence.  I hope I can absorb some of her spirit and let her light shine through me.  I hope I can take some of her best qualities and make them my own.  I hope that I have a lightning bolt of clarity about the afterlife.

So, Gone.  "Gone" means physically not present.  "Gone" means an energy that is now part of the universe because its body is turned to ash.  "Gone" is being remembered but not being with us.  "Gone" is ... is ... so hard to comprehend.  "Gone" is not being here and at the same time being here, because she is still with us even though physically she is not.  "Gone."  Maybe someday I'll have a better answer.