A few weeks ago, I picked up a copy of Robin Romm's The Mercy Papers from the Oklahoma City Friends of the Library Book Sale. The book is essentially a memoir of the last three weeks of her mother's life, as her mother died of breast cancer. I believe her mother was 56 when she died, and Robin was not yet 30. It was strikingly similar to my experience, except that her mother had known about and fought her cancer for 9 years, while mine knew about hers and fought it for 9 months.
While the book's overall writing showed a young author's work, and it could have been written better, it had some remarkably astute and well-written passages. I thought I'd share those passages with you. Some of the passages were chosen for their words, some for the images they conjured, and some for the perfectly honest portrayal of how I felt at that exact moment.
"My mother is the only person ever to love me selflessly and she is dying. I need someone to drop everything, to come running." p. 71
"No one but my mother is here for me. She is the only one." p. 73 (Written in juxtaposition to the household of people and dogs she lived in at that time.)
"Women stop their lives; they're programmed that way." p. 74 (Struck me as particularly appropriate because, like the author and her mother's friends, I stopped my life and dropped everything I had to be with my mom in her last nine months.)
"We brush up against the end every day. . . . The ticking of the clock has gotten so loud." p. 74 (Discussing the anxiety of not knowing when death will come but knowing it is just around the corner.)
"If there's quiet, I will think only of my mother, whether she is alive, whether this time is just time I am not spending with her." p. 75 (I took a trip in July 2009 to Martha's Vineyard and Maine, and during the whole trip I was overcome with thoughts of missing time with my mom.)
"But I need to go home." p. 77 (The realization of her own stopping of her life to go be at her mother's side.)
"Her skin is going lifeless, though she still occupies it." p. 80 (I remember my mom's skin turning very cold, clammy, and gray. Although she was still alive, she was slowly slipping out of her body.)
"And I realize now, in the dark room, that I am not ready, that I will never be ready, that her death will change me even though I've understood that it's been coming for nine years. And all the changes won't be hopeful . . . . Some of the changes will be only pain." p. 83
" . . . because her movements and thoughts patterns are my own . . ." p. 101
"And when my mom dies it will be crushing pain, a silence that will fill me and break me over and over again, daily, relentlessly." p.101
"If we are going to use our tiny reserve of energy to strike up conversation with a strange, well, it might as well be with God. No one else is useful. Not that God is being very useful -- up there punching buttons on his death remote, smirking away." p. 124
"After she died, there will be hours and days and nights of missing her, of a pain that keeps us awake, gnawing at us. It will have no answer, no antidote. That will be our blessing." p. 151 (In response to people telling her that death would really be a blessing.)
"My mother who is covered by a black bag up to her chin." p. 176
"Now it would be the outfit I wore to my mother's funeral. I would never be able to put that skirt on without remembering this moment . . ." p. 184
"I knew about smell, the way it skips over your intellect, like the clicker with the amygdala, and indeed, it made me cry, though the tears felt jagged and unsatisfying." p. 185-86.
"I am partly in that world. But I have one arm in another place, a place beyond the wall, through that portal. I can feel something creeping into the numbness. A largeness. A mystery." p. 193
While the book's overall writing showed a young author's work, and it could have been written better, it had some remarkably astute and well-written passages. I thought I'd share those passages with you. Some of the passages were chosen for their words, some for the images they conjured, and some for the perfectly honest portrayal of how I felt at that exact moment.
"My mother is the only person ever to love me selflessly and she is dying. I need someone to drop everything, to come running." p. 71
"No one but my mother is here for me. She is the only one." p. 73 (Written in juxtaposition to the household of people and dogs she lived in at that time.)
"Women stop their lives; they're programmed that way." p. 74 (Struck me as particularly appropriate because, like the author and her mother's friends, I stopped my life and dropped everything I had to be with my mom in her last nine months.)
"We brush up against the end every day. . . . The ticking of the clock has gotten so loud." p. 74 (Discussing the anxiety of not knowing when death will come but knowing it is just around the corner.)
"If there's quiet, I will think only of my mother, whether she is alive, whether this time is just time I am not spending with her." p. 75 (I took a trip in July 2009 to Martha's Vineyard and Maine, and during the whole trip I was overcome with thoughts of missing time with my mom.)
"But I need to go home." p. 77 (The realization of her own stopping of her life to go be at her mother's side.)
"Her skin is going lifeless, though she still occupies it." p. 80 (I remember my mom's skin turning very cold, clammy, and gray. Although she was still alive, she was slowly slipping out of her body.)
"And I realize now, in the dark room, that I am not ready, that I will never be ready, that her death will change me even though I've understood that it's been coming for nine years. And all the changes won't be hopeful . . . . Some of the changes will be only pain." p. 83
" . . . because her movements and thoughts patterns are my own . . ." p. 101
"And when my mom dies it will be crushing pain, a silence that will fill me and break me over and over again, daily, relentlessly." p.101
"If we are going to use our tiny reserve of energy to strike up conversation with a strange, well, it might as well be with God. No one else is useful. Not that God is being very useful -- up there punching buttons on his death remote, smirking away." p. 124
"After she died, there will be hours and days and nights of missing her, of a pain that keeps us awake, gnawing at us. It will have no answer, no antidote. That will be our blessing." p. 151 (In response to people telling her that death would really be a blessing.)
"My mother who is covered by a black bag up to her chin." p. 176
"Now it would be the outfit I wore to my mother's funeral. I would never be able to put that skirt on without remembering this moment . . ." p. 184
"I knew about smell, the way it skips over your intellect, like the clicker with the amygdala, and indeed, it made me cry, though the tears felt jagged and unsatisfying." p. 185-86.
"I am partly in that world. But I have one arm in another place, a place beyond the wall, through that portal. I can feel something creeping into the numbness. A largeness. A mystery." p. 193
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