Tag: cancer

Mother’s Day Musings

Every once in a while, I have one of those days that leave me feeling melancholic about how life has changed.  Mother’s Day this year was one of those days.  Of course, mothers everywhere deserve their special day and should probably have more than one day per year honoring them, but when your children no longer have a loving mother, it makes the day somewhat atypical.

It gave me a chance to look at how far we have come.  I don’t think of us as being unlike other families.  We have grown and adapted and have been able to carry on in our own unique and sometimes unorthodox ways.  It struck me on this day though, that life is different for us, even though we choose not to focus on it.

I’m in awe of my children on a daily basis.  Sometimes it is because of the immense strength and character that I see in them, and other days because they can’t figure out how to pick up their dirty and wet towels off the bathroom floor!  I don’t think that someone unfamiliar with our history, would look at us and think, “There is a family without a Mom.”  Sure, they may run off to school with clothes that are kind of shabby, probably not matching, hair and teeth not brushed, and homework not all up to date, but they are happy, well-adjusted kids, thriving and full of life.

“Mothers are like glue.  Even when you can’t see them, they are still holding the family together”  Susan Gale.

The most difficult days for Maureen and I were those days when we would think about emotional harm to the kids.  We both found such joy in our children and our family life, thinking those days would last forever.  Thoughts of how cancer and death would affect the children always brought us such pain and heartache.  No child should have to watch their mom get sick and die.  It was usually a roller coaster ride.  There was good news one day that gave you hope followed by lousy news another day that left you in tears searching for strength.  Those tears were almost always for our children.  Somehow wishing we could make things better for them.

The strength of character that she exhibited throughout her ordeal with cancer is a cherished gift and lasting lesson for all of us.   I remember the end, when we finally had to admit defeat.  The doctors at Maine Medical breaking the news that cancer had spread and informing us that Hospice was the next step.  There wasn’t much else we could do, our optimism had run its course, and now it was a reality.  We sat and held each other for a long time, trying to wrap our minds around the looming hardship. A lot of sadness and tears, as we pulled ourselves together, heads spinning with the heaviness of the last few days, reluctantly accepting our fate and thinking about how to proceed.

Facing her death, Maureen was still an extraordinary Mom, thinking about what was best for her children.  We had often spoken about the tremendous sadness of not being able to watch the kids grow up.  I can’t imagine how devastating that must have been or even how a mom comes to grips with that reality.  It has to be the most horrific experience a parent has to endure.  Despite that, she put her fears and sadness aside and asked that I go home to get the kids and bring them back to the hospital so she could talk to them.  This conversation with the children was one the bravest and most courageous actions I have ever witnessed in my life, finding the fortitude to be “Mom,” knowing that she was also saying “goodbye.”   It was one of the saddest yet most beautiful and powerful acts of love imaginable.

“The strength of a mother is like no other.  During times of stress, she may struggle to find her way because she is facing her demons, but her child’s welfare comes first.  She’s not perfect and makes mistakes but never doubt her love; it burns deeply in her heart”.

As I sat out on my front steps pondering these thoughts on Mothers Day, my mind drifted across the street to a house where a neighbor’s 93-year-old mom had just passed away only a few weeks ago.  I realized that we are not different.  There are many people out there with mothers and/or fathers that are no longer with us physically, but the love that they have for their children endures forever.

mike mcenaney loss and learning

I look at my children and see the strength and love their mom in their soul.  They may not realize it now, but someday they will realize that their mom gave them a remarkable gift and she is with  them always.

Children Mourning the Loss of a Mom

There are many ways that Maureen still touches our lives in grief.  I honestly believe her love is part of my being and is with me each day.  I’m fortunate to live with four children that carry her spirit with them every day, and sometimes I catch myself telling the kids; “That was just like your Mom”!  It is quite extraordinary at times to see her traits in their mannerisms and actions.

When Maureen was first diagnosed with cancer, the kids were 9,9,11 and 12.   We quickly realized that there is no one correct way to explain this to your children.  We decided to tell the kids about the cancer, but always explained that it was treatable, and that one-day Mom would be healthy again. We did this partly because both Maureen and I were hopeful that this was the truth and partly because if it was not the truth, we wanted to start helping the kids learn some skills to cope with less favorable outcomes.  This certainly was not anything we ever fathomed as parents.

At the time, Aidan (the twelve-year-old) was always the last child to go to bed.  Since he is a quiet person, it was nice for Maureen and me to have that one on one time with him every night.  It was when he was at his most talkative and we both loved having that quality time with him.  One night, shortly after the initial diagnosis, we could see that the wheels were spinning in his head and he was upset by the news.  Because of his multiple diagnosis of Asperger’s and ADHD, he was a clever child but not very emotional, preferring to deal with facts.  I vividly remember him questioning the both of us:

“I thought there was no cure for cancer?”

Through each stage of the cancer, we continued to take the same approach with the kids, not wanting them to carry that burden of the idea of losing their mom.  We felt they were too young to handle this weight (when it was not certain) and we continued to try to raise happy, healthy, strong children that one day would be able to face these challenges.  Aidan was never fooled.  There is always something going on in his head and I can’t imagine how he dealt with this conflict over what we told him, versus what he believed to be factual.

As a child, school was a challenge for him(He was actually kicked out of a Pre-school, but that’s a story for another day).  His ADHD and Asperger’s affected his focus and social skills, while organization was not his forte.  Teachers had a love/hate relationship with him.  They either loved him for his unique qualities, bright red hair and mischievous smile or they hated him because he was too rambunctious, wild and unfocused.  If it happened to be the latter, it was always a long school year, because he had a sixth sense when a teacher did not really like him, and he knew how to get under their skin and antagonize them!

Maureen had an incredible gift for working with children that were a little different.  She believed in the success of all kids and was a tireless advocate for them.  After working with them all day, she would come home and spend hours at the table with Aidan, helping with schoolwork.  The sessions were often tortuous, as he would push Maureen to the brink of frustration.  He hated school work and knew how to get out of it.

Mike McEnaney Loss and Learning grief mourning

Freshman year was a disaster.  Maureen was very sick for much of the year and Aidan was drowning with the independence and increased responsibility of High School.  We had to take him out of a few classes because he was completely lost.  Maureen did her best with her failing health, but things were changing.  The homework sessions were less confrontational, with Aidan willingly seeking out his Mom.  I remember Maureen commenting how much she now enjoyed sitting with him and how receptive he was having this special time with his Mom.

After Maureen passed away, there were many nights and days filled with tears from all of us.  However, to this day, I have never seen Aidan shed a tear.  I have had conversations with him about sadness and grief and being OK to cry.  Perhaps in his own space and in his own way he has, but I have never seen it.  I know for certain that he misses his Mom and I know for a fact that she is with him every day in spirit, because he has been transformed into a completely different person.

Grief affects everyone differently.   For Aidan, it has been taking all those hours spent with his Mom at the kitchen table and coming to the realization that he is smart, he is organized, and he can be a good student!  The below average student who struggled to occasionally make the honor roll, now consistently achieves high honors, is taking college level classes, has been taken out of the special education program and even builds computers from scratch for his friends, all while working 15-20 hours per week!  I remind him often how proud his Mom would be and notice a slight touch of moisture in his eye before he silently acknowledges and looks away, trying to hide the emotion I have stirred within him.

Grief is love with no place to go.

Last week we had our annual IEP meeting to discuss Aidan’s Special Education plan, and I knew that we were planning on taking him out of Special Education.  Every person in the room commented on how Aidan is the model student and how enjoyable he is to have in class.  It was so hard to control myself emotionally, knowing how Maureen would be beaming, hearing of his achievements and what a fine, successful young man he has become.   Aidan may not talk about the heartache of losing his Mom, but he shows his love every day by becoming the young man she always knew he could be.

Grief takes on many forms, sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it can be powerful and lifechanging as well.  For Aidan the spirit of his Mom is alive within him and that mutual love has been a force in his life.  That love is in a lot of places if you take the time to look.

True love is with us always

On July 2, 2016, my wife Maureen McEnaney passed away after a three-year battle with colon cancer.  This blog is not only my story about the pain and sadness I experienced while grieving her loss, but also about my journey of self-discovery, positive change and adventure as I wandered through my new world suddenly filled with uncertainty and ambiguity.

loss and learning mike mcenaney

Looking back, as much as I thought I had mentally prepared myself for that day, it was still a mind-numbing experience.  Maureen and I had fought as a team throughout the cancer, both of us remaining positive while at the same time preparing for less desirable outcomes.  I remember sitting by her side as she grew weaker and weaker; her last words expressing her devout love me.  I knew we loved each other, but as the tears rolled down her face, I experienced the most powerful expression of love I have ever felt in my life. We cried, holding each other dearly in a lasting embrace.  I’m a lucky man, to have known and seen true love, to experience it at its most vulnerable, to see the truth in it, to know it is real.  It is ironic how this moment of intense love and clarity is then followed by loss; our love is forever etched upon my soul and constantly gives me strength.

 

Her breathing became labored and erratic and I knew she would be leaving.   As her last breath was drawn, I froze.  Time seemed to stand still.  It’s one thing to prepare yourself for the concept of losing your best friend and soul mate, it’s quite another to comprehend the devastating reality.  Somehow, I mechanically was able to take care of the remaining business, but my spirit had been sucked out of me, I was empty.

 

A good friend drove me home, knowing I just needed to sit in silence.  Returning home to face my four children was daunting.  I was wondering, how I do this? Here was my first act as a solo parent, and it’s breaking the worst news of their young lives to them.  I had always loved being a Dad and considered myself a good parent, yet suddenly I felt incapable and incompetent without the support of my loving partner.  The physical act of death is so simple but the complex chain reaction of events that follow are so intense and emotional, that it’s impossible to fathom the severity and far reaching effects.  It’s like being stripped naked and dropped in a strange land, being left to figure out how to survive.

 

As I struggled for strength and direction, I knew that I was not going to let cancer beat our family.  It may have wreaked havoc on our lives, but I was not going to let it win.  Early on, that was my strength; it’s what kept me going.  My drive and my motivation today is to continue the fight and somehow keep our family healthy and strong, while also keeping the spirit and love of Maureen McEnaney alive within us all.