Loving My Mother

A tribute to my mom, Trijntje Dumay Van Diepen
August 7, 1935 – March 3, 2023

Late winter is always a bit of a climb emotionally speaking. This one is no exception as it recalls the events that would eventually culminate in the passing of my mother.

“She wasn’t supposed to go yet.” That was the predominant thought I had in those knife-edge chilly days. Over and over I asked myself why.

No matter how much you may want the answer to any question, answers are often slow to come. In Mom’s case, she had the resilience of her ancestors, a people who carved life out of swamps and marshes, daring the water to come at them while keeping it at bay. That is the nature of people living in The Netherlands.

It didn’t make sense to me that she was leaving this world.

Mom was always the example of a woman who fiercely attacked life. When there wasn’t better to be had, she made all things better anyway. She could create an experience, like Christmas, out of nothing, because as an immigrant to Canada in the postwar 1950’s, there was nothing.
Regardless, she would use her very capable hands to wrestle out Christmas complete with decorations, often branches from evergreens growing in the garden outside, gifts, always beautifully wrapped even if with only brown paper and always music. She would bake stollen, pound cake, shortbread and so many delights that I, as a child, was in wonderment.

I can still remember so many of these moments with crystal clarity.

Early in February of 2023, my siblings and I spent the weeks leading up to Mom’s passing together, rubbing shoulders in my sister’s house, tightly woven together as we created the tapestry that would be the story of our mother’s passing. Every day we would gather in the room where Mom lay while in her process, to have coffee together. Sometimes Mom would have a sip because Mom and coffee were as one. There she would tell story after story about her life, until her voice eventually betrayed her.

I made a point of recording every one of those conversations. I knew they would be treasures at some point down the road when she was no longer.

And they have been. I listen to these recordings always, especially when I am struggling with the pain of her loss. I feel her messages, both recorded and subliminal, more intensely than ever. It amazes me how much I can still learn from my mother even now, when she is not physically here. How is it that I would roll my eyes in the ignorance of my youth and blow her off when I was too impatient to listen because I apparently already knew it all (sarcasm)? But now! I am open to her voice. More open than ever.

I still think Mom was too young to go. She was a young 87 years of age. She told us repeatedly that she was simply tired and ready to go. I understand that. COVID triggered her badly, returning her to the days of Nazi occupied Holland. No one would want to live through that again – the thought of being imprisoned in your own home, facing lack of food and all the emotional traumas of that time in her life weighed heavily on her all over again in the COVID years.

Traumas can live in the body for decades and in some cases trauma can be carried forward from our ancestors. If that living wound is not addressed, it can continue to fester inside. You might experience this as an inexplicable sense of loss. Or you may feel pain and tension in your body that isn’t part of any other medical condition. Most often this is held in the stomach, abdomen, lower back, hips and upper back, shoulders and spine.

You might struggle with sleep. Or struggle with anxiety and depression. Trauma can make you feel isolated from others. If trauma isn’t addressed it can lead to other forms of illness.

My mom was definitely traumatized from her life experiences. But she had a life of value too.

Here’s a message she has delivered to me and that I now wish to share with you. Women particularly please pay attention.

Ultimately Mom’s passing came as a result of an undiagnosed urinary tract infection. At the time I couldn’t believe that something so seemingly innocuous could lead to death. But it did.

In elderly people, UTIs are all too common.

Be alert to the early signs of a UTI:

• a more urgent need to urinate
• increased urination
• burning, pain, or discomfort when urinating
• feeling pressure in the lower abdomen or pelvis
• cloudy, thick, or odorous urine
• the bladder not feeling empty after urination
• fever
• pain in the lower abdomen, flank, or back
• blood in the urine
• fatigue
• nausea
• vomiting

UTIs are mainly due to age-related risk factors like malnutrition, unmanaged diabetes, poor bladder control leading to urinary retention or incontinence, constipation and a host of other factors. Sometimes UTIs can happen because an elderly person has such poor mobility they can’t properly clean themselves. Here is an argument for a bidet if there ever was one!

As her children, we questioned what we missed. My siblings and I had been making visits to my mother on a regular basis – every week or more often. I also telephoned her every day, if not multiple times per day. Mom lived on her own in her little apartment and seemed to be doing well. We bought and brought food for her but we could tell she was not interested in eating. Something you need to understand about my mom is, she was an extremely stubborn woman. The fierceness that helped her make a life for herself in a new country as a 20 something immigrant bride, was part of her thriving in this life and also part of her undoing.

Mom wanted NO part of moving to a home. She would call them “human warehouses,” with a heavy defiance in her voice. Not for her these warehouses! Mom’s freedom was her most prized possession. That said her desire to be independent was her undoing. Mom spent many hours alone and I believe loneliness also contributed negatively to her demise.

She also refused to go to doctors. Only at the end when she was really in trouble did she allow a doctor to see her and that was primarily to make her comfortable as she progressed to the end of her days.

It’s hard not to feel guilty that we, I, should have done more. In the end, my sister and I had POA over her body and Mom had a living will. We were asked by our mother to give her ease and grace, to care for her physical needs until that wasn’t necessary anymore, and to give her comfort in this time of need.

Perhaps it was enough to give her what she wanted most, freedom in her living days and love and comfort at the end.

With so much love for all who have lost loved ones,
Tosca