When your mother dies

                           Rest in peace, Mom

Joan Zaruk     May 7, 1928 – February 21, 2012

At 5 a.m. this morning, after hearing the news on the phone, I reread the chapter called When Your Mother Dies, in Rona Maynard’s wonderful book, My Mother’s Daughter:

“Baby showers herald the transition to motherhood. Roses, greeting cards and invitations to lunch celebrate mothers every May. Yet, despite our culture’s motherhood mystique, no rituals mark the psychological journey we daughters begin when our mothers die.    

“The loss of either parent cuts deep, but mothers shape most women’s lives like no one else. What your mother served for dinner (or didn’t), whom she married (or divorced), the work she chose (or had forced upon her) – things like these tell a daughter what it means to be a woman.

“Whether you model your choices on hers or cringe at the very thought, whether she nurtured or neglected the girl you really were (as opposed to the one she thought you would be), your mother was your North Star.”

My mother’s death also marked my launch into orphanhood. As Christopher Buckley wrote in his memoir, Losing Mum and Pup, when the last of your parents dies, you are an orphan:

“But you also lose the true keeper of your memories, your triumphs, your losses. Your mother is a scrapbook for all your enthusiasms. She is the one who validates and the one who shames, and when she’s gone, you are alone in a terrible way.”

I  thought I’d share with you the obituary we drafted for our mother:


“On February 21, 2012, Joan Zaruk died peacefully in St. Catharines in her 84th year.  Predeceased in 1983 by her husband, soulmate and favourite dancing partner, Peter.  She was very proud of her five children: Carolyn, Catherine, Beverly (Gary), Brian (Donna), and David (Mitzi).

“Joan was ‘Baba’ to 11 loving grandchildren:  Ben, Larissa, Conor, Liam, Hailey, Matthew, Allison, Daniel, Celine, Clarissa and Jordan. She was ‘sister’ to Jean, Mary, and brother Tony, and ‘Chucha Joan’ to many nieces and nephews.

“She was ‘Joanie’ to her friends, especially during the years she devoted to volunteering in the kitchen at St. John The Theologian Ukrainian Catholic Church.  She inherited her fierce work ethic from immigrant parents on the Manitoba farm where she was born, and then spent a lifetime practising it, including at the Red & White grocery store she and Peter ran on York Street, and for 20 years on their 40-acre fruit farm in Jordan Station.

“Somewhere in heaven today is the aroma of her famous homebaked Chelsea buns and an apple pie or two, a jigsaw puzzle on the go, and the sounds of polka music as she finally gets to once again dance with her beloved Peter.”

by Carolyn Thomas


See also:

Why I’m Nothing Like – Yet Just Like – My Mother

A Motherless Mother’s Day

“Bereavement Eating: Does Grief Cause Carb Cravings?

“Goodbye Mom” – cardiologist Dr. John Mandrola‘s moving tribute to his mother


23 thoughts on “When your mother dies

  1. Your Mom gave you a gift… it was you! What a sweet story.

    After losing my Mom eight years ago (and going through a quad bypass last year at age 64 that I could never tell her about), I miss my Mom too. We shared everything. She was my anchor.

    I love what you do Carolyn. You are a gift to many.
    Love Denise

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So sad to hear about your Mom. Thinking about you and wishing you joyful memories and comfort in the embrace of family and friends. Hope to see you when you get back.
    Big hugs, d and gj

    Liked by 1 person

  3. What a beautiful tribute to the gorgeously complicated mother/daughter relationship. And what honouring words you left in memory of your mom, Carolyn. Sending you lots of love on your journey back to your family.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Dear Carolyn,
    My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. May wonderful memories engulf you all as you celebrate your Mother’s life and love for you and your family. The grieving process takes time and is different for everyone. May you be supported throughout your journey. I am so sorry for your loss.

    I lost my mother 7 years ago but everyday I speak of her and to her. Her words of wisdom come to me often and through them she continues to be there for me.
    Thank God for Mothers.
    Thinking of you,

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Carolyn – so sorry to hear about the loss of your mother. I know there are no words that can fill that void in you right now. My mother died in 1986 and I still miss her every day, but over time, the pain, which never completely goes away, is slowly substituted with wonderful memories. It sounds as though you and your mother made some pretty good ones together and I hope they help to bring you peace. Please know you are in my thoughts.

    With love,

    Liked by 1 person

  6. As one who’s “been there, done that”, I wish you all the best and, especially, comforting arms to enfold you. You never “get over it” but the tears you shed get happier with each passing year.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Dearest Carolyn,

    I love the image of your mother’s refrigerator with all of her children’s business cards neatly in a row. What a beautiful woman she must have been ~ just like you! As I age, I find myself looking into the mirror and seeing my mother staring back at me and I feel a sense of comfort. It’s called the circle of life, and while sometimes there is great sadness, there is also great joy in remembering who we are and how we became the people we are today.

    Loving thoughts your way as you grieve your beloved mother.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Carolyn, my stomach tightened into a hard rock when I read your first lines. Oh, yes, what a shock to the body and soul when our mother leaves this world.

    Mine was only 55 and a heart attack untreated, undiagnosed, and not suspected was the cause. Not because she didn’t have family history: she had an entire family of male siblings with treated heart disease! Along with a father who died at 39 of the same.

    And so, I consider her early death her final gift to me. Awareness of the silent intruder in my own life and in those of my children and their children. A responsibility to be a ‘teller’ to others about their own possible ‘lurking’ inheritance. A small word at the right moment is my legacy to her.

    And so you have done the same. The photo of your mother is so lovely. She looks happy, warm, content, and I know she is so very proud of YOU!

    Consider yourself hugged and loved this day.

    Lynn, Mayo Clinic Class of ’08

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for your kindness, Lynn. You’re so right – my mother WAS so very proud of me and my two brothers and two sisters (although of course that rarely if ever came out in words – you don’t want to give your kids a “swelled head”, after all!) But on her fridge door was very proudly arranged a neat row of the five business cards of her five children. To my mother, who had a 3rd grade education and a childhood of unspeakable misery, just having a business card meant you must be a ‘somebody’ – and here she was with five ‘somebodies’ right in her own family! XOXO

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Hi Carolyn,

    I am very sorry for your loss, take comfort in the time that you were able to share with her. My heart cries out for you in your hours of pain. I find myself at a loss for words, but know that my heart and prayers are with you.

    With love, Robin

    Liked by 1 person

      1. So sorry for your loss. The loss of a mother is a great one. You are a tribute to her. I think of my own mother daily and ask for her guidance. Our mothers are always with us.
        Take Care,

        Liked by 1 person

Your opinion matters. What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s