Mayday
The final severing of the umbilicus
My mum, Joanne, moved on to the next realm today. May 1, 7:50 am EST in Florida on Blessed Beltane with a full moon in Scorpio. She hadn’t been doing well for a lot of years… I mean a lot. like 15. But in my mind, this day each year, Mayday, will always be dedicated to her.
A condensed and fragmented history:
When I was about 18, her mother - my grandma - died tragically in a bizarre and violent car accident, my mum never really got over it - a sort of permanent mood change occurred. A few years later, when my father left her, she had problems coping as well and subsequently had issues holding on to friends, managing to alienate nearly anyone around her. It’s hard to pinpoint why that would be, but life is harder for some. I remember her telling me about an incident at art school at Indiana University of Pennsylvania; she was sexually assaulted at night by someone on the football team. She reported it, but the school did nothing. They didn’t believe her at all. She spoke of these kinds of incidents recurring in her world. Like a lot of people of the time - and still - she was a sufferer of the patriarchy. Society had somehow coaxed her into having a perpetual victim mentality. From what she told me, her father treated her like she wasn’t nearly as worthy as her brother, which created deep resentment. I think my grandfather meant well, but he was just a Catholic product of patriarchal times, which is a classic recipe for treating women inferior, including your own daugher. Her brother, Joe, was always the loveliest of people, and I think he understood Joanne’s lot in life. Incidentally, he passed away just a month before my mum.
I chatted to my mum a bunch from overseas via telephone before her mind started to deteriorate about six years ago. I haven’t lived in the same country as her for 15 years, so communication has been relatively patchy, but over the last 4 months, her health had been hanging by a thread, and I hadn’t had ANY access to call her, which was a little anxiety-inducing. But last night I was able to call while the nurse held the phone to her ear. I told her I loved her one last time and that I’d see her again wherever she may be. Then I stared into a burning candle that was in front of a mirror, glanced upward, into my eyes and saw hers intertwined with them, and I let her know it was ok to let go. About 18 hours later, she passed on.
It’s hard seeing someone you love - especially a parent - slowly fade away. So many antidepressants and other pharmaceuticals just kind of numbed her into someone else over the last 10 years. She was wheelchair bound and often spoke of not wanting to live anymore to me on the phone. My siblings and I tried to coax her into being active in the hopes of a better life, to no avail. She had resigned from this world many years ago, but still, it’s a slight shock to get this news. Massive thanks to Jeff, for taking care of her in the USA over the years - no small feat.
My mum taught me how to be a punk. To not give a fuck about what people think about me. She helped me bleach my hair blonde in 5th grade, and whenever she decided to dye her hair, I joined in, and we’d dye our hair together. She may or may not have known this, but I raided her make-up box each morning before high school. School shopping for combat boots was always a good shout. When I was really really tiny, she had no issues buying me dolls, at my insistence, to play with, which was rarely done in those days. Somewhere deep down, she understood me, even if it was impossible for any of us to articulate. She had no care in the world what other parents thought of her kids, which was so cool to me then. Freeing. She never quite fit in with this world… She wanted to be an artist, but dropped out of Art school halfway through - I think because she got pregnant, though that’s a guess. Her life paths took irreversibly strange twists into weird territories. She told me I was living her dream by going to art school. I never forgot that. I’ll keep doing art for her. She was definitely a singular personality, flaws and all. Thank you for everything, Mum… I love you. Fly on….
x
Sending love Agnes 🖤🫂
My condolences