Too Good to Lose Thread, She got her wish

At 0948, Pacific Daylight Savings Time, on 26 March, 2008, my mother, Barbara Levy Zelinsky, took her last breath. She died with her granddaughter Susan, her wondrful Tongan helper and companion for the past two years, Theresa, and me by her side. The end came peacefully for her, after two years of a terrible existance for a woman who had been an active participant in life for 87 years. She died just a bit more than a month before her 90th birthday.

Mom was very lucky. She died in the house she and my dad bought right after the war, in 1946, in Jordan Park, a neighborhood of broad streets and large houses half way between Golden Gate Park and San Francisco's Presidio.

Robert David Zelinsky, my father, died at the home as well, of the same affliction that killed Mom, COPD (Congestive Obstructive Pulminary Disease), brought on - according to the doctors - by years of smoking. Dad was 82 when he died. 82 and 89 are nice, long lives that many would be glad to have guaranteed for them, but living the last 10 or 15 years of life starved for oxygen and unable to even walk a few steps without having to rest, having to forgo family outings and golf and simply going out for dinner is not any kind of life I'd like to live. Neither of them wanted to live like that, either, but once they became handicapped with their disease, there was nothing they could do but wait until the end came. It came very slowly for Mom, assuring me once again that any notion of a loving and comforting God was blown away by watching my parnets suffer as they did. At one point, Mom asked me to take her out in the country and shoot her. "I mean it, Michael, I really want you to just shoot me!" she said. What do you say to your mother when she asks you something like that? I thought for a minute and then said, "Mom, I can't! I can't because you won't even let me have a BB gun!" A slight smile crossed her lips. "I know. You'll shoot your eye out," she said, then adding, "but I really wish you could." "I know, Mom, I know," I told her. That was the end of that conversation.

I had tried to convince my mother to sell the house on Jordan Avenue and to move to a place more conducive to her ailment. A great big, three story house is too much house for one little old lady. My friend Ellen lives at Rossmoor, a beautiful gated community in the oak studded hills of Contra Costa County, just east of the Berkeley Hills, about 35 miles east of San Francisco. It would've been perfect for Mom.

About 4 years ago, we were driving back home from San Diego, where we'd spent a long weekend visiting with my daughter Monta and her family. It was now or never, I figured, so as we drove along, I said, "Mom, I have a proposition to make for you. Don't say anything until I've finished, okay?" "Okay," she said, "What is it?" I then told her that she should sell her house, and put 1/2 of the proceeds into a trust for my sister which would become hers at Mom's death. Then we would take the other half and buy a 2 bedroom condo at Rossmoor, right on the golf course. I'd move in with her and take care of her for the rest of her life. She'd be able to get around much better on one level, and Rossmoor has tons and tons of activities for the many people her age who live there, and is convenient to shoppping, medical care, etc. She even has a few friends who live there to play Bridge with.

Mom listened quietly and then, when I was finished, to my great surprise she said, "Michael, I'll think about it." That was more than I'd expected, so I shut up and let her think.

A few hours later, as we made the descent from the elevated freeway into the toll plaza of the Bay Bridge, we could look across the bay and see San Francisco, silhouetted against a silver bank of summer fog rolling in from the Pacific beyond, its city spires catching the final rays of sunshine above the fog like shimmering beacons.

"Look, Michael, there's our beautiful city," she said.

I knew then that there was no chance that she would be moving to that idylic Seniors community in Walnut Creek. Mom was a San Francisco girl, born and sour-dough bred. She wasn't going to leave her beautiful city, and I'm afraid she's given me the same stubborn attitude. For better or for worse, I, too, am a San Franciscan for life.

Mom was a product of San Francisco's Public Schools and was a graduate of the University of California, Berkeley ('39) with a Bachelor's degree in Political Science. She was a life long Democrat and, in her University years, an enthusiastic Roosevelt socialist. She was not religious. In fact, she was decidedly unreligious. She had a spiritual side, though, separating her personal spiritual life from that of organized religion and of her father's Jewishness and her mother's Christianity. It made sense. Neither of them were chuch/synagogue attendees either. She was active in the PTA(Parent Teacher Association) when my sister and I were in school, and was a Cub Scout Den Mother and a Camp Fire Girl volunteer. She worked for several charity organizations as a volunteer, including the USO and the Red Cross. She was an avid Bridge player and a damn good golfer. What she lacked in range, she made up for on the putting green. She could belt out a Broadway show tune like Ethyl Merman. She was a brilliant debater and ruled our dining room table discussions like the Speaker of the House of Representatives. Representative Nancy Pelosi (Dem., San Francisco), the current Speaker of the House, couldn't touch the hem of her apron when it came to holding her ground on any issue. She was never wrong. There was one time when she thought she might have been wrong, but it turned out she was mistaken. :wink:

During her last years, I made it a point to always thank her, each time I left her, for something she'd done for me in my life; everything from my first bicycle, to my electric train set, to sending me to Robert Louis Stevenson School in a vain attempt at getting me to be a real student, to putting up with my love for sports cars and motorcycles, to Boy Scout Camp and all the rest. I'll say it again here. Thanks for everything, Mom. You done good.

Love,

Michael

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Lord Plye Wood
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May your Mum rest in peace

What a wonderful memory you have of her and your love of her comes through in your post

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Bob
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What can one say other than I am both sorry and happy for your loss, having just had my 94 year old mum in law pass away getting more and more confused. You and they want them to hang on, but at the same time you know that they just want to see an end to the whole sorry process.

Michael, like your photos that was a wonderful piece of writing which both captured and expressed a great deal of not only how you and your family feel and felt, but many others similarly feel and find hard to say.

It is obviously a sad time for you and your family, but your mum is free of pain now and so are you and at 90 one has had a good innings in life.

I wish you well at this time.

M'Lud! You have just written a beautiful obituary! It's not automatic to love your mother. It's not compulsory , but you do. It comes over in your writing and yet you accept the inevitability of death. It's sad, but only for those left behind. We sorrow for ourselves but fortunate people like you and me, remember, sadly but with thanks that we ever knew them at all.
Barbara would be proud of her son
You have my sympathy.
Michael

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May your Mum rest in peace,a wonderful tribute you have paid her,she sounds like a lady I would have got on with...may her God go with her.

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Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."~ Mark Twain,

That is a marvellous tribute to your mum. R.I.P

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A wonderful tribute to your Mom, Michael. Your sadness will be tempered by your memories. My thoughts will be with you and your family.

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Gina
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Retired and relaxed!

It's heartbreaking to lose your Mother, however, when they have lived a long enough life span, you rejoice in the life they have led and try not to dwell on the sorrow and pain which is only natural. May she rest in peace.

Mike
That was the most moving beautiful obituary.

Graham

So sorry LPW. I feel as if I have known your Mother as long as I have known you, Ellen and your family. You will all miss her, but she has left you a legacy beyond price, as is shown in your reflections of her.
May she rest in peace, God bless her.