Thirty Nine Years and One Day

Mom took her last breath on January 6th, 2007 . Thirty nine years and one day after dad died. It was gray and gloomy until around 4pm on the sixth floor of Crittenton Hospital. Surrounded by her daughters, she lay on her side facing a western window. 

My son Bowie wanted to visit his grandma Shepard. I brought him in and although only eleven years old and not a big conversationalist, he spoke about what he was learning in school. He went on in his sing-song little voice for quite a while. I knew how much Bowie meant to my mom. She called him “little Sam” because he reminded her of dad. Even though mom was no longer responsive she could hear Bowie and I thought, what a gift he gave his grandma Shepard that day!

Mom’s older grandson, my nephew Brian was there too and I asked him to take Bowie out of the hospital when they were both ready to leave.

Then it was mom and her four daughters, one in each corner quietly keeping her company. We could never have planned her last moments, but things happened with divine timing. It is said that a person can choose when to exit this life and I’m certain mom waited until it was just us in the room when she died.

As her breathing pattern changed we drew in close. My hands were gently on her back, sending loving energy for a peaceful transition. Silently letting her know it was safe to let go. 

Mom took her last breath and as she exhaled, the westerly sun broke through heavy dark clouds and a beam of light shone in the window.  When her spirit released from her physical body I felt her energy bounce around the room and off the walls like a highly charged super ball, shooting through me and out the window on golden rays of sunlight. It was a surreal and incredibly reverent moment. I was so giddy from feeling her exuberance and joy that I laughed out loud. Mom was no longer suffering in her broken body, her soul was free.

There were tears and sadness of course, but also relief that she had a safe and peaceful passage from this world into the next. I remember our sister Denise saying: “Well, mom always wanted to get home before it was dark out.” which made me giggle. It was so very true.

Geraldine Louise Nacarato was born in Ypsilanti Michigan on February 13th, 1930. Geraldine, or “Jerry” as she was known, came of age during a time when many left school to marry, work or help support their families. She walked a mile to school each way and every day through rain, sun sleet or snow, often wearing borrowed clothes. Jerry graduated Pontiac High School the winter of 1947, one month shy of her seventeenth birthday.

At fifteen she held her first job working at a drugstore in downtown Pontiac. Jerry was what was called back then a “soda jerk”. Behind the counter she operated the soda fountain machine, preparing and serving soft drinks and ice cream sodas. Our sister Debbie recalled mom saying, “no one knows how to make a cherry coke. You have to get the syrup and soda mixed just right.”

Married young, she had Debbie when she was nineteen. Jerry divorced her first husband after he became abusive. Not many women had the courage to leave a bad marriage in the early 50’s but our mom did.

Jerry met Sam Shepard and their attraction was mutual. They married in 1954. Dad adopted Debbie and then Denise was born in 1955. After seven years mom was pregnant again and a month before we were born, our parents found out they were having twins. Shawn and I arrived in 1963.

In our old house on Oaknoll there was an upright piano in the basement. Mom taught herself how to play by ear. Between loads of laundry and ironing she would sit down at the piano bench. How Much is That Doggie in the Window, the Andrew Sisters, Esther Williams and music from the Thin Man series were some of her favorites. 

Shawn and I were three when we moved into our newly built home on South Boulevard. Two years later dad was diagnosed with lung cancer and was sick for a year before he died on January 5th, 1969. Being five I didn’t understand death, but I knew mom was very sad and our family would never be the same.

Mom was a widow at 38 with four daughters to raise and no emotional support. When mom expressed sorrow about dad’s death she was told she just needed to get over it. Grief was not as well understood nor a topic of discussion back then. 

In an era when women weren’t allowed to have their own bank accounts or credit cards, mom pushed through the pain of her loss to do what was needed to take care of her family. Mom became the head of our household, she worked, kept our home and raised us as best she could. Our grandparents lived nearby and helped significantly.

Mom was a handsome woman, tall with strong convictions and common sense. Ahead of her time, she dressed modern in jeans and slacks. Eventually she went out with friends and loved to dance. Johnny Mathis, Engelbert Humperdink, Tom Jones, Sonny and Cher were favorites. She dated, had boyfriends and belonged to Parents Without Partners, but never remarried. I recalled mom saying “there will never be another Sam.”  

As Shawn and I grew, mom would have us walk around the living room balancing encyclopedias on our heads for good posture. “There is nothing worse than seeing a tall woman stooped over,” she said. Being 5’ 10” herself she knew the odds were likely we’d reach her height. If mom saw us slouching while sitting on the floor or in a chair she’d walk behind us and run her finger up our spines as a reminder to sit up straight. Even as she aged, mom always stood tall with her shoulders back and head high. 

She had a unique sense of humor and often didn’t understand our jokes, yet mom was able to laugh at herself. Once she dressed as the Jolly Green Giant for halloween in a homemade costume complete with a can of green beans in each hand. Debbie remembered many times she would make up her own words and when they finally figured out what mom was trying to say, they would both laugh uproariously until they were in tears.

Mom took comfort in reading the bible and belonged to church and study groups. She spoke of a time when dad was ill and she was in a parking lot after a rainstorm. As mom walked with her head down to avoid stepping in a puddle, she saw a clear reflection of the sunlit sky, a cloud, and Jesus looking down from above. This brought her great peace during that difficult time. 

She loved gatherings, cookouts and enjoyed celebrating her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Family was very important to her. She spoke fondly of her childhood memories in Milan with her grandma and uncles. 

Mom and I had a difficult relationship while I was growing up, but after my sons were born I gained new insight and respect for her. I couldn’t imagine being a widow and raising children on my own or how difficult that would be, especially in the late 60’s and 70’s. Mom and I began spending more time together having fun adventures and heartfelt conversations. We became close towards the end of her life, and for that I am grateful.

Her health had been in decline for a while when she was hospitalized after Christmas 2006. Mom spent twelve days at Crittenton, initially on a ventilator in the ICU. After several days and no hope of recovery, they extubated our mom, which was her wish. She entered hospice care and transferred to the sixth floor.

Denise and I were there after the ventilator was removed and together we gave her a back and shoulder rub. Mom couldn’t speak but we knew it brought her comfort. Working with our hands we propped her up a bit to reach her lower back too. We massaged her skin with lotion. Mom always enjoyed a good back rub.

The four of us came to the hospital every day, sharing stories of mom’s life and our experiences growing up. It was a revelation to hear my two older sisters talk about their memories when they were young before we were born and when Shawn and I were toddlers. Some of these stories I had never heard before. 

As we were leaving the hospital in the elevator it suddenly dawned on me and I said to my niece, “I didn’t realize until now but it was like we had two separate families growing up!” There was an age gap of seven years between Debbie and Denise, then another seven years between Denise and Shawn and I.

Our two older sisters had the “Ozzie and Harriet” version of family life. Mom helped with their school activities, Blue Birds, Girl Scouts, crafts, baking, cooking and canning. Dad was busy after work with gardening and many other projects. There were a lot of parties, family gatherings and fun times. Vacations were a big event. Every other summer our parents loaded up the station wagon and drove to North Carolina where dad’s parents, siblings and their families lived.

Shawn and I experienced childhood not only without dad but with our mom who was never the same after his death.  For a long time she was numb and checked out mentally due to her grief and depression. It was an unsettling and difficult time for all of us. Mom worked full time to pay bills, buy school clothes and necessities. The need to pinch pennies and cut corners along with coupons was very real.

Mom carried the grief of losing her husband for 39 years and I like to imagine my parents are happy to be together again. Mom was forever changed after dad died, but she found meaning and purpose in life. Long walks, gardening and embroidering, were a few of her past times. Mom was always up for an adventure and loved seeing plays and concerts. Being surrounded by family was pure joy to her heart.

I was not officially a nurse or a death doula in 2007, yet as I reflect on her life and the experience of her dying, I realize my sisters and I were sitting vigil for mom all those days she was in the hospital. It was a special time that I contemplate often and will always cherish. 

Mom loved it when her four daughters were together. We each had busy families and lives, but we gathered every day in the hospital to be with mom. Tending to her and sharing her life stories - trials, tribulations, and funny silly happy times. For me the experience answered so many questions and brought a deeper understanding regarding the impact of dad’s death, family ties and the relationships we have with each other and our parents.

She was a woman of incredible strength and courage, and I wonder how different mom’s life would’ve been if she had support for her grief. There are excellent resources available now. She overcame the difficulties in her life, which were many and more than I have written about here. I miss her often and sometimes wish I could pick up the phone and hear her voice. I love you mom and thank you for the lessons you taught me. I’m so honored and proud to be your daughter.

The website Joincake.com is a great resource for ideas on sitting vigil, grief support and the importance of choosing a medical power of attorney to make your wishes known if you are unable to express them. Mom was a planner and had her documents in order which made the difficult decision of removing the ventilator easier on us and for that we are grateful.

Blessings,

Shelley

Sam, Jerry, Debbie, Denise, Shelley & Shawn 1967