Mom looks down from Mom Heaven to set me straight, AGAIN

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on June 17, 2008 0 Comments

NOTE this is an edited re-posting of" Mom cajoles me from heaven " which I will delete, badly constructed post.

 I hope many hopes, right now I'm really hoping all you decent folks, even any reasonable slightly indecent folks…go for broke, ALL folks everywhere, are blessed with the wonderful family connections that Ma Nature saw fit to bless upon this unworthy soul.

I will be presenting true and clean-spirited true-to-me stories that introduce to you here my folks.

 My Mother, Evelyn Bianchi, married my Father, Clifford Allenson, which bode well for me, as their love bore excellent fruit five times – my four sisters and Brother Aaron, along with one consolation booby prize: me. My name is Glenn.

 My Mother passed upward 12 years ago, from lung and other cancers. Cancer, it turns out, takes many folks from this Life, especially folks who stray from the path of health and get hooked on wrongful consumer goods and bads. Cancer also snatches up millions of folks who did not stray at all; they just got cancer. More on cancer later, in a different setting.

Evelyn Allenson was good at giving good advice and instilling rightful living through example and the spoken word. I disreagarded some early directions and got:

Cavities in too many teeth. [Brush after every meal and snack, Mom said quite often.]

Hit by a red light running Nissan Stanza while jogging through a green light. [Look both ways before crossing, I know…DUH!]

And just last week, I smacked my thumb with my big hammer, at work, and LO the clouds parted, and from beyond the blue-sky boundary of Life on Earth came a sweet but stern voice, from Heaven I believe; it was Mom, and She had a few words to make her runt of the litter feel better.

OHHH you poor man, you've banged that thumb again, put some ice on it Dear, don't blame yourself, it's okay…YOU IDIOT, DIDN"T I TELL YOU STAY IN SCHOLL AND USE YOUR HEAD NOT MUSCLES?? HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU, STAY IN SCHOOL!! But did you listen to your Mother who carried you for almost a year? NNOOOOOOOO, you knew BETTER well LOOK AT YOU NOW YOU DUMMIE!!!!"

Hiya Mom!

The following is true and astonishing.

The end was still en elusive concept, even after Mom had been in a coma for 11 days. We kept shifts to share the strain of seeing her fade, seeing her lose more and more of her humanity, of the quintessential Italian beauty she had been even after the chemo and the radiation had taken her hair, her smooth skin, and the dignity once set so deeply within her eyes, her expression, her very being..With each passing hour I was reminded of the last conversations we had shared, a little while ago, so very long ago, ten thousand heartaches ago.

When she asked me "Glenn, am I going to live?" I was so full of hope, so convinced that my research – despite her Doctor Taradash's assurance that she was beyond the help of any research – I was so full of my own unproven capacities to thwart God, the Devil, and this vile crimson-swelled octopus creature growing from my Mother's shriveling chest, that my answer must have given her at least a shred of hope, a loving voice intoning words of assurance without any hint of lost fortitude.

For, as She had announced to all within earshot on a thousand occasions, auspicious and rife with accomplishments of grandeur: was I not her Number One Son?

I thought back along the grand victories, a faucett fixed, a broken window reglazed, a light bulb changed, the bathroom finally finished…then I remembered, my sentence of six months for growing marijuana, my parants driving fifty miles to pick me up Friday night for my weekend passes, then fifty miles Sunday night to return me to the GlenWood Honor Ranch, 100 miles every weekend for five weekend passes…I remembered stealing the four nickels from atop the fridge back in San Francisco when I was six, buying the four Reeses cups and eating them all until I turned green and crawled home, where I found my Mother in tears and my Father angry at her for losing the laundry money that would have allowed him fresh clothes for work tomorrow, I heard her telling him she must have dropped the four nickles on the way to the laundramat, as she looked at me and nudged her head at me to go out of the room lest my Father see the truth…

"AM I going to make it this time?" Mother asked again, in a voice so laden with hope and need that my entire world crashed down into the couch cushions, the old carpet sucking the broken shards into its dusty embrace, as I answered without the slightest possibility of doubt, "Of COURSE you're going to live, Mom, every book I've just read, ewvery scientist I've been calling up, says it's NO PROBLEM!"

And I could see by her eyes, I could feel in her arms as she hugged me again, and again, and endlessly again, that she fully and unconditionally believed…

That I was hoping not to be proven a liar.

That's the kind of realist my Mother always was, and still is, UP THERE.

I'll never forget the night that the worst, and the most blessed thing in our lives, came to pass.

My older sister Cheryl had been doing triple shifts, for reasons of love and one reason that involved Cheryl's unwavering faith that God would be showing His [or Her in my view] mercy and compassion.

I had made clear to my siblings that I was going to administer a fatal dose of liquid morphine and temazapan, a stronger version of Valium, to bring an end to Mother's indignation and Her endless suffering. Her Doctor had made it clear that we could not afford any more of the expensive morphine; we had used up every cent of Mother's Life Insurance on treatments and this third bottle that was now down to its final doses.

How many times this conversation ensued I cannot be sure; but the number is related to the hours, which were thirty-five or forty.

"Glenn, God has not appointed you to be Mom's executioner. God does everything in His own way. God ALWAYS has His plan."

"Cheryl, look around the world right now. Tonight thirty thousand terrified and dying children will waste away in their Mother's hunger-numbed arms, Mothers too weak to chase the flies from their childrens' wide open sickness-blurred eyes. God is busy elsewhere, and if God showed up right now and told me to wait I would tell God to get out of our house."

That was over the top, not my usual compromising response, as I normally keep clear of religion-based discussions. But while I am usually companionable at least in sitting near those having such conversations, my irritated outburst was, looking back now, not quite as harsh as some of my other blasphemous exhortations.

A short time afterwards, Cheryl looked me in the eye and said softly, "Glenn, I'm tired, I'm going to the church with my friends who I just called; we'll be there praying. Call me if you need to, if anything changes."

Thank Ma Nature, I thought then [and still think every day of my life]. Cheryl had become very overweight, and I was terribly convinced that she was headed straight to a heart attack drinking all that coffee and praying, instead of sleeping and understanding how Life really works.

But God did show up! A few hours later, as I held my Mother in my arms and talked to her about how great it was having the whole family in the house once again, having Aaron holding her and talking to her while I had some of Patricia's pasta – I never had known what a great cook our Tricia had become – having all of us talking like we never had any problem doing, long long ago…

So it was that God slipped in unseen, unheard, and left just as silently, taking with Him the spirit of Evelyn Allenson Bianchi.

I picked up the phone while Tricia joined Aaron holding my Mother's head, their eyes wide and their hearts racing in astonishment and Joy, for they had seen the Miracle that I had just witnessed, after closing my Mother's one unclosed eye for the final time.

I called Rebecca, my youngest sister, who for some time had been unable to come and look upon the dying husk of a human being that Cancer had caused my Mother to become, during her long journey into pain.

"Rebecca, come here at once, and bring Donna and your friends. Come see your Mother as She looked twenty years ago, before the sickness and the pain that have gone away now. 

"Come and see how beautiful your Mother is, and how peacefully she now sleeps forever, with God!"***.

After Mother's Spirit rose out of its bodily prison, Mother's body relaxed; the huge bloated Alien growth on her chest shrank, and retreated into the void, and was no more;

And my Mother's ancient-looking face, all the pain and misery that had taken up residence there, all were banished into far away places!

My Mother, in Merciful Death, became the beautiful Italian woman she had been, throughout all of her living and loving Life!!

***My Mother was also religious, pretty much or maybe even completely. She never forced her beliefs on us.


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