November 20, 2024 • 42 mins
Rachael speaks about her mother's sudden death, and the dark, scary thoughts she had during that time.
The weeks that followed? Rachael had other big waves to learn to surf on Grief Beach.
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Episode Transcript
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(00:00):
If death was knocking at your door, would you even know?
(00:08):
What if I told you that it's already inside?
It's already inside the house, sitting right beside you.
And it really is because death is always approaching us.
It doesn't matter our gender, our race, our religion, our age, who we voted for.
(00:34):
Even down to some of our health indicators, it doesn't matter.
Death is always coming.
But if it was there, sitting beside you, could you look it in the eye?
Could you sit with death?
(00:57):
Could you say, I'm here and I will hold your hand and I love you and I won't let go and
I will walk with you until you return home?
My family and I had the privilege and the honor of walking both our grandpa and our
(01:23):
grandmother through hospice care.
We were able to provide them both care, love them, witness them and watch them as they
deteriorated and returned home.
So I think that because of those experiences, myself and my sister, I think we both thought
(01:50):
we knew what death looked like.
I think we both knew or thought we would know when it really was knocking on the door.
On August 19th, my dad texted us that our mom had been taken to the hospital.
She was dizzy, nauseous, vomiting.
(02:10):
Everything was pointing to a stroke.
But the paramedics said she wasn't having a stroke.
After spending the day in the hospital and a few tests, there really wasn't anything
wrong and they let her sign herself out, but wanted her to get an MRI soon.
(02:34):
Over the next three weeks and lots of different doctors visits, nobody diagnosed my mom as
having lung cancer.
Nobody diagnosed her as having liver cancer.
Nobody diagnosed her as having brain cancer, but yet her death certificate says metastatic
(02:57):
cancer, which means cancer that has spread to multiple sites throughout the body.
That day when my mom first went to the emergency room and was in the hospital, she texted us
and said, if this is the end, she's loved her life and she has no regrets.
(03:24):
Which normally would probably be a very beautiful message to hear from someone who is maybe
facing death.
But when I got that text on that Monday, it made me mad.
Made me mad at my mom.
You wouldn't change the way you parented me.
(03:46):
You wouldn't treat me better.
You wouldn't have managed your anger and aggression and withheld from hitting me so much as a
child and as a teenager.
You have no regrets.
I was mad.
I was hurt.
All the wounds that have truly been so raw.
(04:13):
I felt like she was just rubbing salt in them.
And I thought, if she really is thinking through her life right now and she's really thinking
she's at the end of her life, I hope she'd be replaying all the terrible, horrific things
that she'd done to me.
(04:34):
I hope she'd be thinking through and having her life flash before her eyes.
And I'm hoping that some of those memories would have helped her to see and understand
the pain that she caused me.
I don't know.
(05:00):
During those three weeks that my mom was deteriorating unknowingly, doctors had diagnosed her with
pneumonia and they were treating that before they could really do anything else for her.
But she was in a lot of pain.
Wasn't really processing the medication well in her body.
(05:22):
Was in pain.
Not feeling better.
Not getting better.
One of the times that I went over to see her, I expressed my concern.
I felt like she had had a stroke from the way she was acting.
She wasn't herself.
(05:43):
I think her spirit definitely had one foot out the door.
And I asked her, I said, where is your soul?
Where is your spirit?
And she said, I don't know.
So that is when I began to talk to my sister and let her know, I think our mom is dying.
(06:06):
I think she's dying.
I think this is the beginning of the end.
I reached out to friends.
I told my boss.
I told other people, I think my mom is dying.
And I don't really feel that bad.
(06:33):
I didn't feel bad and I didn't feel sad and I felt numb.
But I also know that I felt validated or vindicated in some way that she was suffering because
she has caused me so much suffering in my lifetime.
(06:59):
I told people, I told my friends, I feel like a psychopath.
I feel like a sociopath.
I should be feeling other things if I think my mom's dying.
But I think the way that I felt about her and the way that I have grieved her is directly
(07:26):
correlated to the relationship that we had in this lifetime.
We were very much alike.
That we both caused each other a lot of pain.
(07:46):
I've called my mom my abuser on this podcast and I've said it many times in reality to
friends and people as well because that is my truth.
And even if my mom is now dead, that doesn't change the reality of what my childhood and
my life experience up until this point has been.
(08:13):
Part of me wonders and feels that perhaps her soul, her spirit knew how imprisoned I
was.
Even though I wasn't living in her house anymore and I haven't for some time and even though
there's lots of distance between us, I still was suffering and I still was trapped in my
(08:39):
pain from my childhood.
And despite nine years of therapy and despite all the work I had felt I had done, every
day I still was in so much pain, wondering why didn't she like me?
Why didn't she love me?
(09:04):
Didn't she want me?
Why didn't she want me?
Why did she treat me so bad?
Why did she hurt me?
Why did she call me so many names?
Why was she so physically aggressive and violent towards me but not my sister?
Why was it okay for her to hit me all those years but never hit her dogs or her animals
(09:32):
when they misbehave but it was okay for her to hit me?
During the three weeks that my mom was sick and suffering, I wish I could say that I went
over there and I cooked her dinner.
I didn't.
I brought her some hot dogs from a fast food place.
(09:54):
I wish I could say that I did laundry for her but instead I was keeping up with my house
manager duties at my part-time job and cooking and cleaning and taking care of other people,
taking care of another family but not my own.
I wish I would have went grocery shopping for her and my dad.
(10:17):
I wish I would have stopped by and watched a movie.
But I couldn't look death in the face.
And even though I told my friends and people around me, I think my mom's dying, I never
was able to say it to her.
(10:40):
I never was able to say, do you think you're dying?
What would you like us to do?
How do you want to spend your time?
Instead the last time that I saw her, I told her I was worried about her health and I wanted
(11:03):
her to walk and I wanted her to exercise.
And when she was through this health scare and this pneumonia, I wanted her to take charge
of her life and eat more vegetables, drink water, exercise, just take a walk around the
block.
(11:25):
I just spent time telling her what to do and trying to fix her.
I didn't say anything loving to her.
In fact, she told me I was an annoying caretaker and that if I was going to say such things
(11:48):
that I should just leave.
And when I told her I cared about her and I was worried about her, she said, well, I
would have just thought you would want me dead.
And I said, well, that's an awful thing to say.
Despite the fact that we have a very sordid history, I don't want you dead.
(12:21):
I told her I loved her.
I gave her a hug and I kissed her goodbye.
That was the last time I saw my mom.
A few days later, she went to the hospital for a second time.
(12:44):
And after a long day in the emergency room and more tests and more scans, they told her
they had found some masses on her liver.
And they said that a doctor would be coming in the morning.
They would make a plan, a treatment plan, and they would figure out what are the next
(13:05):
steps, where to go from here.
She had some soup, some ice cream, a pop.
My dad went home to take care of the dogs and told her he'd see her in the morning.
(13:29):
The doctors never said, you should gather your family.
It doesn't look good.
She was in the cardiac ICU and I guess maybe we should have known it was that serious.
My dad, my sister and I, of course, have a hundred what ifs, what if we would have done
(13:56):
this, what if we would have known, what if this, what if that, the doctor's this, the
doctor's that.
How did they go so long without identifying that she had cancer?
She smoked cigarettes for over 40 years.
(14:18):
She probably smoked a pack a day throughout that time.
So as she was sick and as she was suffering, part of me felt like, yeah, you did this to
yourself.
You've never cared about your health.
(14:40):
My sister and I would cry as children and beg her to stop smoking.
But she would say, smoking is how I go, then it's how I go.
When it's my time, it's my time.
And through the hospice care of both of my grandparents, she made it very clear that
(15:01):
she didn't want to be on machines.
She didn't want to be on life support.
She didn't really want to be that old.
I think she wanted to be forever young.
My family suspects that she probably knew she was sick the last few years.
(15:26):
She must have felt something in her body.
Maybe she realized she couldn't breathe so well.
She couldn't walk so far.
But she just wanted to keep enjoying life.
She didn't want to face cancer.
She didn't want to face chemo.
She didn't think she was strong enough.
(15:46):
So the last few years, she just had fun.
Had swimming dates with girlfriends, going out to restaurants, enjoying martinis and
margaritas, and way too many cigarettes, of course.
(16:10):
In the time that I knew my mom was sick and I thought she was dying, I had all kinds of
crazy thoughts and feelings.
Wanting her to feel pain, to have some karmic retribution, I wanted her to act or show me
(16:35):
or acknowledge that she had caused me pain and suffering.
I also simultaneously wondered if all the negative thoughts I've had about her made
her sick.
Is it my fault?
Is she dying and it's my fault?
Now, of course, I know that's not true.
(16:56):
But the brain does its own crazy things sometimes.
I wish things could be different.
I wish we had more time to continue rewriting our future.
(17:17):
It's been two months or so now and there are still some days where I turn to my partner
and I say, I can't believe my mom's dead.
And the days after her passing to have to go to the grocery store or be out in the world
(17:42):
in any capacity, my brain just kept saying, that person outlived my mom.
Oh, that person's older than my mom.
The coffee creamer I bought in the fridge, the expiration date.
This coffee creamer is outliving my mom.
(18:06):
Being around in the world and feeling like my mom's dead, my mom's dead, my mom's dead.
While everybody else is carrying on with their daily lives.
Following my mom's passing, my family knew we needed some time to prepare her service.
(18:29):
We needed some time to prepare a celebration of life.
And in that month, I found a lump in my breast.
So I had to go through the process of doctor's appointments and scheduling a mammogram and
(18:50):
an ultrasound simultaneously.
I began having pain in my liver.
Each of me was wondering and thinking, maybe my liver is hurting because her liver was
hurting.
Or maybe from spending time in the house and around all of her things, maybe my body was
(19:15):
picking up on some residual energy or pain of hers.
But I knew that I couldn't just brush it off.
I had to make appointments, I had to make calls, I had to get this looked at, I had
to take care of myself.
During my experience scheduling these few tests, I had multiple issues with my doctor
(19:39):
and the referral forms and this form and this code.
And I had to make so many phone calls over the course of two weeks to get things correct
so that everything would be what it needed to be for insurance and such.
And through all the hoops I kept going through, I knew my mom couldn't make these phone calls.
(20:02):
My mom would have given up already.
Oh, you have the wrong referral form?
Oopsie.
She never would have went back and made an appointment.
Driving me forward to take care of myself was knowing I was stronger and tougher than my mom.
(20:28):
Thankfully my scans and everything from my tests came back clear.
I don't have cancer.
A lump in my breast is a lump in my breast, but there it is and it's just normal for me.
But in the month following my mom's death, I then was facing my own health scare.
(20:52):
Then I started to notice my cat was really sick and that my cat Tanner had lost a lot
of weight.
And I thought maybe he's just depressed because I've been depressed.
Maybe he's sad because I haven't been home as much.
But then I noticed that he wasn't eating on his own and so I began to force feed him
(21:16):
and take care of him.
After taking him to the vet and talking with my doctor, we concluded that my cat was also
dying of liver failure or liver disease.
I had barely been able to process my mom's passing, my health scare, and here I was holding
(21:47):
and caring for my cat knowing that his days were numbered.
I gave my cat an IV at home.
I mashed up his food, measured his prescriptions, fed him with a syringe.
(22:09):
I took care of him for three weeks.
It's the same time that my mom was sick.
And during those three weeks, I never wanted to leave my cat's side.
And I would pet him and love him and I would say things to him like, thank you for loving
(22:35):
me.
Find me in another lifetime.
Come back and find me.
Thank you for saving me.
I will miss you so much.
I have never loved anything like you.
There will never be anything as special as you.
(22:57):
My heart and my affection for this cat was just unending.
And it was in that time that I realized I wasn't a psychopath for feeling the way that
I did when my mom was sick and dying.
(23:23):
I was responding very normally for everything that I've been through as an abused person.
But every time I murmured beautiful loving words to my cat, I couldn't help but recognize
(23:44):
the stark contrast of the fact that those were things I would never say to my mom.
I wouldn't say them because I didn't mean them.
But I loved my cat Tanner so much and he loved me unconditionally.
(24:09):
And in the final days of caring for my cat, I learned that one of my very close friends
voted for Trump.
And it wrecked me.
Wrecked my friend group.
(24:29):
My heart had broken so many times.
And I was already feeling so dark and so low.
This has been one of the hardest seasons of life I've ever had to face.
My mom died.
(24:49):
A cancer scare.
My cat is sick.
Trump won the presidency.
Feeling like I've lost a friend and then I had to put my cat down.
(25:15):
I really don't like situations where I have to play God.
It's not for me to decide if someone should live or die.
It's not for me to decide what is right or wrong.
(25:38):
Putting down my cat and having to make that choice was one of the hardest things I've
ever done.
And all the while that I've been feeling these things and holding these things and going
through these things, the world keeps on turning and burning around me.
(26:13):
My favorite metaphor for grief, one that I commonly teach to clients, is to visualize grief and
the grief experience like being on a beach.
Sometimes we're in the sand catching a tan.
(26:34):
It's a calm, lovely day and we're enjoying ourselves and we're thinking, what grief?
It's so far from my mind.
Sometimes we're in the water and we're doggy paddling.
Our head is above water.
We're making progress.
We're having our feelings, but we're treading water.
(26:55):
We're doing okay.
Other times the waves are high and you can't catch your breath and there's just so much
salt water in your nose and you're choking and you're gagging and you're drowning.
Some days it feels like that.
(27:18):
I had been sitting on the previous podcast episodes, this YouTube video, lots of little
content pieces for social media.
None of it mattered anymore.
Nothing felt important anymore.
Fuck, it still doesn't.
(27:48):
But as depressed as I am and as hopeless as I am and as angry as I am, I know that I cannot
keep quiet and I know that I need to keep creating and I know that the world needs my
(28:09):
voice now more than ever.
This is not a time for Radically Rachael to be silent.
And it doesn't matter if what I say is pretty, but it matters that I show up.
And I understand now more than ever why my soul chose this time, this time here and now,
(28:38):
this day and age to incarnate.
I picked the United States, one of the darkest, vibrationally low places on the planet.
I absolutely believe that the United States is dark.
We are a suffering, hurting people.
(29:03):
And the world needs my light.
The world needs my voice.
I need to use my privilege.
I need to use my white privilege to speak up for others and to speak up for those that
do not have the advantages or the access or the resources or the privilege that I do.
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And I need to keep speaking and keep sharing and keep educating from this place of privilege
and power that I have.
And that requires me to show up as my true self, my whole self, my authentic self, and
that I'm not just trying to be liked and I'm not just trying to be polished, but it's
(29:54):
okay to be messy and it's okay to be ugly because that's just where I am right now.
That's what's real.
I've known now for a few weeks that I would have to create an episode in which I share
and then my mom died.
(30:18):
But even though she is dead, the impact that she has had on me and the way that she shapes
my stories does not end.
And it's not over here.
This is just the end of one chapter and now I have to begin another.
(30:40):
I'm going to end today's episode by reading some passages from the memorial piece I wrote
and shared at my mother's funeral.
My mother taught me all I know about God, heaven, angels, spirit guides, ghosts, mediums,
(31:06):
and psychics.
Oh my!
She also taught me about loving and caring for all humans and especially those who are
marginalized, oppressed, and lacking equal human rights.
She was passionate about voting and not just in the presidential elections.
(31:28):
She was always making sure we were all registered and going out for every small and local election
as well.
She wanted to make a difference in this world and I believe she did.
She used her voice and her own social media platform to amplify the stories of others,
(31:50):
to educate and bring awareness to social justice issues, health care, reproductive rights,
LGBTQ rights, gun safety, climate change, racial justice, and more.
Many Facebook friends of my mom's commented sharing beautiful stories about how she encouraged
(32:11):
them through their divorce, supporting them through mental illness or crisis, or championed
for them online as a keyboard warrior.
Interestingly enough, many of the people commenting on my mom's Facebook were scattered across
the country and some of which she'd never met face to face.
(32:33):
One woman shared a lovely story about meeting my mom at a local bar where there was live
music and dancing.
My mom swept her away on the dance floor and they became fast friends.
They bonded late into the night, diving into one another's histories.
My mom was like that.
(32:54):
She could make friends anytime, anyplace.
She truly was a social butterfly and has always gathered the kindest, most beautiful people.
She loved connection and celebration.
Give her a reason to bust out the china, the cloth napkins, or tequila shots.
(33:18):
My mom has shared this poem on more than one occasion and she read it at my grandfather's
funeral.
It's called I Had a Father Who Talked with Me by Hilda Bigelow.
I have adapted it a little bit to better fit the occasion, with some slight commentary
to suit my mom, of course.
(33:40):
I had a mother who talked with me, allowed me the right to disagree, sometimes.
To always question, sometimes.
And always answered me, as well as she could, and truthfully, sometimes too in detail.
(34:01):
She talked of adventures, horrors of war, of life, its meaning, what love was for.
How each would always need to strive to improve the world to keep it alive.
Rest the duty we owe one another to be aware each human is a sister or brother.
(34:24):
Words for laughter, she also spoke a silly song or happy joke.
Time runs along, some say I'm wise, that I look at life with seeing eyes.
My heart is happy, my mind is free.
I had a mother who talked with me.
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I had a mother who talked with me about all things spirituality.
She believed that we were meant to question and we were meant to wrestle with things,
spiritually speaking.
So of course, as children, we often ask, why?
Why do bad things happen?
(35:08):
Why is there suffering?
And maybe some of you are asking those same questions today, as an adult.
If there was a question we asked our mom and she didn't know, she would refrain from
the song lyrics, Someday we'll know, by the new radicals.
(35:29):
Because she knew and believed that one day when we are all at the big party in heaven,
we all would know, we would all have our questions answered.
The big wonders and whys that separate us and divide us here on earth.
We can look forward to knowing that someday we won't have to wonder, because someday
(35:52):
we will be able to ask God and know.
Our mom raised us to be faithful and fierce.
She encouraged my spiritual gifts, my sisters, and she wasn't afraid or ashamed to tell
others of her own.
She called herself a mystic, and today I claim the same online.
(36:17):
My mom walked so radically Rachael could run.
I wouldn't be the woman, the teacher, the leader I am today, if it weren't for my mom
giving me the very foundation.
Whether it was in our home, at church, as my Sunday school teacher, or out in the world,
(36:42):
she wanted us to know and believe that God is speaking every day in many ways.
He is not confined to the Bible written by man.
And she wanted us to have our own personal relationship with God, Spirit, Universe.
And we do.
(37:03):
And because of the fervor in which she shared about how beautiful life was beyond, in heaven,
because she could perceive it, I believe that I and many others have probably felt her nearby
already.
Maybe an old song on the radio, an article on social media, the smell of cinnamon rolls,
(37:28):
a cardinal flying by, a dragonfly.
And I feel like I've perceived her sense of humor from beyond as well.
I'm going to end my podcast episode here with a story that I also shared at the service.
This is one of the first times that I heard my mom's voice in spirit.
(37:52):
The day after she passed, my sister, Alexis, had prompted me that I should call the funeral
home since we hadn't heard from them yet.
And I said, it's only been a day.
We just filled out the form at the hospital.
They'll call.
And Allie said, I don't want mom to be lost.
(38:12):
Still did I know her spidey senses were tingling.
The next day, I called the funeral home.
They hadn't heard about my mom.
Call the hospital, they said.
Then I called the hospital.
And they told me to call the funeral home.
And after a very painful call with someone from the hospital, I hung up so enraged that
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they had neglected to contact the funeral home as they were supposed to do.
My mom would have to wait to be picked up another day?
I was angry that my mom had been lost and was waiting for someone to claim her.
My dad shared my frustration and we both were fuming.
(38:57):
But then suddenly I heard her in my mind say, that's okay.
Jesus rose on the third day.
And immediately the bubble of anger within me burst and I laughed because I knew what
she was telling me with that comment.
She wasn't in the hospital.
She wasn't in the morgue.
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She wasn't in her body.
She was with me.
Her spirit was with me right there.
I didn't need to be angry.
She was already beyond, here, there, everywhere.
I can hear her.
I still do.
(39:41):
My mom and I are talking way more now in her death than we ever did when she was alive.
And I know that she is going to haunt the hell out of me.
I ended the memorial by singing the song Someday We'll Know, which was originally performed
and written by the New Radicals in 1998.
(40:04):
It was later made popular in the movie A Walk to Remember by Switchfoot.
But the New Radicals tape was a cassette that was always on repeat in our minivan back when
I was a kid.
For any of you who are hurting, grieving, and you still have big questions that you
(40:27):
need answered, give them to Spirit.
And if you don't hear the answers or receive the comfort tonight, I trust and believe that
Someday We'll Know.
(40:47):
And right now, friends, I'm still on that boat.
Very hurt, very dark.
I'm out on grief beach and I wish someone would throw me a life jacket.
But I know in time I'm going to get better at swimming.
And sometimes I will be on the beach soaking up the sun.
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And today and the darkness that I feel for myself and the country will someday be behind
me, won't be as close to where it is today.
I wish I could understand or explain why bad things happen.
I wish I could explain why there is loss and grief and suffering and pain and heartache
(41:42):
and death.
I don't have the answers.
Right now all that I'm clinging to is the truth and the belief that I have in knowing
that everything is being worked out for the highest good of all.
(42:06):
And so that is our affirmation today, friends.
I trust that everything is working out for my highest good.
I trust that everything is working out for the highest good of all.
I trust that everything is working out.
(42:29):
Thanks for joining me, friends.
I'll talk to you next week.
If death was knocking at your door, would you even know?
(00:08):
What if I told you that it's already inside?
It's already inside the house, sitting right beside you.
And it really is because death is always approaching us.
It doesn't matter our gender, our race, our religion, our age, who we voted for.
(00:34):
Even down to some of our health indicators, it doesn't matter.
Death is always coming.
But if it was there, sitting beside you, could you look it in the eye?
Could you sit with death?
(00:57):
Could you say, I'm here and I will hold your hand and I love you and I won't let go and
I will walk with you until you return home?
My family and I had the privilege and the honor of walking both our grandpa and our
(01:23):
grandmother through hospice care.
We were able to provide them both care, love them, witness them and watch them as they
deteriorated and returned home.
So I think that because of those experiences, myself and my sister, I think we both thought
(01:50):
we knew what death looked like.
I think we both knew or thought we would know when it really was knocking on the door.
On August 19th, my dad texted us that our mom had been taken to the hospital.
She was dizzy, nauseous, vomiting.
(02:10):
Everything was pointing to a stroke.
But the paramedics said she wasn't having a stroke.
After spending the day in the hospital and a few tests, there really wasn't anything
wrong and they let her sign herself out, but wanted her to get an MRI soon.
(02:34):
Over the next three weeks and lots of different doctors visits, nobody diagnosed my mom as
having lung cancer.
Nobody diagnosed her as having liver cancer.
Nobody diagnosed her as having brain cancer, but yet her death certificate says metastatic
(02:57):
cancer, which means cancer that has spread to multiple sites throughout the body.
That day when my mom first went to the emergency room and was in the hospital, she texted us
and said, if this is the end, she's loved her life and she has no regrets.
(03:24):
Which normally would probably be a very beautiful message to hear from someone who is maybe
facing death.
But when I got that text on that Monday, it made me mad.
Made me mad at my mom.
You wouldn't change the way you parented me.
(03:46):
You wouldn't treat me better.
You wouldn't have managed your anger and aggression and withheld from hitting me so much as a
child and as a teenager.
You have no regrets.
I was mad.
I was hurt.
All the wounds that have truly been so raw.
(04:13):
I felt like she was just rubbing salt in them.
And I thought, if she really is thinking through her life right now and she's really thinking
she's at the end of her life, I hope she'd be replaying all the terrible, horrific things
that she'd done to me.
(04:34):
I hope she'd be thinking through and having her life flash before her eyes.
And I'm hoping that some of those memories would have helped her to see and understand
the pain that she caused me.
I don't know.
(05:00):
During those three weeks that my mom was deteriorating unknowingly, doctors had diagnosed her with
pneumonia and they were treating that before they could really do anything else for her.
But she was in a lot of pain.
Wasn't really processing the medication well in her body.
(05:22):
Was in pain.
Not feeling better.
Not getting better.
One of the times that I went over to see her, I expressed my concern.
I felt like she had had a stroke from the way she was acting.
She wasn't herself.
(05:43):
I think her spirit definitely had one foot out the door.
And I asked her, I said, where is your soul?
Where is your spirit?
And she said, I don't know.
So that is when I began to talk to my sister and let her know, I think our mom is dying.
(06:06):
I think she's dying.
I think this is the beginning of the end.
I reached out to friends.
I told my boss.
I told other people, I think my mom is dying.
And I don't really feel that bad.
(06:33):
I didn't feel bad and I didn't feel sad and I felt numb.
But I also know that I felt validated or vindicated in some way that she was suffering because
she has caused me so much suffering in my lifetime.
(06:59):
I told people, I told my friends, I feel like a psychopath.
I feel like a sociopath.
I should be feeling other things if I think my mom's dying.
But I think the way that I felt about her and the way that I have grieved her is directly
(07:26):
correlated to the relationship that we had in this lifetime.
We were very much alike.
That we both caused each other a lot of pain.
(07:46):
I've called my mom my abuser on this podcast and I've said it many times in reality to
friends and people as well because that is my truth.
And even if my mom is now dead, that doesn't change the reality of what my childhood and
my life experience up until this point has been.
(08:13):
Part of me wonders and feels that perhaps her soul, her spirit knew how imprisoned I
was.
Even though I wasn't living in her house anymore and I haven't for some time and even though
there's lots of distance between us, I still was suffering and I still was trapped in my
(08:39):
pain from my childhood.
And despite nine years of therapy and despite all the work I had felt I had done, every
day I still was in so much pain, wondering why didn't she like me?
Why didn't she love me?
(09:04):
Didn't she want me?
Why didn't she want me?
Why did she treat me so bad?
Why did she hurt me?
Why did she call me so many names?
Why was she so physically aggressive and violent towards me but not my sister?
Why was it okay for her to hit me all those years but never hit her dogs or her animals
(09:32):
when they misbehave but it was okay for her to hit me?
During the three weeks that my mom was sick and suffering, I wish I could say that I went
over there and I cooked her dinner.
I didn't.
I brought her some hot dogs from a fast food place.
(09:54):
I wish I could say that I did laundry for her but instead I was keeping up with my house
manager duties at my part-time job and cooking and cleaning and taking care of other people,
taking care of another family but not my own.
I wish I would have went grocery shopping for her and my dad.
(10:17):
I wish I would have stopped by and watched a movie.
But I couldn't look death in the face.
And even though I told my friends and people around me, I think my mom's dying, I never
was able to say it to her.
(10:40):
I never was able to say, do you think you're dying?
What would you like us to do?
How do you want to spend your time?
Instead the last time that I saw her, I told her I was worried about her health and I wanted
(11:03):
her to walk and I wanted her to exercise.
And when she was through this health scare and this pneumonia, I wanted her to take charge
of her life and eat more vegetables, drink water, exercise, just take a walk around the
block.
(11:25):
I just spent time telling her what to do and trying to fix her.
I didn't say anything loving to her.
In fact, she told me I was an annoying caretaker and that if I was going to say such things
(11:48):
that I should just leave.
And when I told her I cared about her and I was worried about her, she said, well, I
would have just thought you would want me dead.
And I said, well, that's an awful thing to say.
Despite the fact that we have a very sordid history, I don't want you dead.
(12:21):
I told her I loved her.
I gave her a hug and I kissed her goodbye.
That was the last time I saw my mom.
A few days later, she went to the hospital for a second time.
(12:44):
And after a long day in the emergency room and more tests and more scans, they told her
they had found some masses on her liver.
And they said that a doctor would be coming in the morning.
They would make a plan, a treatment plan, and they would figure out what are the next
(13:05):
steps, where to go from here.
She had some soup, some ice cream, a pop.
My dad went home to take care of the dogs and told her he'd see her in the morning.
(13:29):
The doctors never said, you should gather your family.
It doesn't look good.
She was in the cardiac ICU and I guess maybe we should have known it was that serious.
My dad, my sister and I, of course, have a hundred what ifs, what if we would have done
(13:56):
this, what if we would have known, what if this, what if that, the doctor's this, the
doctor's that.
How did they go so long without identifying that she had cancer?
She smoked cigarettes for over 40 years.
(14:18):
She probably smoked a pack a day throughout that time.
So as she was sick and as she was suffering, part of me felt like, yeah, you did this to
yourself.
You've never cared about your health.
(14:40):
My sister and I would cry as children and beg her to stop smoking.
But she would say, smoking is how I go, then it's how I go.
When it's my time, it's my time.
And through the hospice care of both of my grandparents, she made it very clear that
(15:01):
she didn't want to be on machines.
She didn't want to be on life support.
She didn't really want to be that old.
I think she wanted to be forever young.
My family suspects that she probably knew she was sick the last few years.
(15:26):
She must have felt something in her body.
Maybe she realized she couldn't breathe so well.
She couldn't walk so far.
But she just wanted to keep enjoying life.
She didn't want to face cancer.
She didn't want to face chemo.
She didn't think she was strong enough.
(15:46):
So the last few years, she just had fun.
Had swimming dates with girlfriends, going out to restaurants, enjoying martinis and
margaritas, and way too many cigarettes, of course.
(16:10):
In the time that I knew my mom was sick and I thought she was dying, I had all kinds of
crazy thoughts and feelings.
Wanting her to feel pain, to have some karmic retribution, I wanted her to act or show me
(16:35):
or acknowledge that she had caused me pain and suffering.
I also simultaneously wondered if all the negative thoughts I've had about her made
her sick.
Is it my fault?
Is she dying and it's my fault?
Now, of course, I know that's not true.
(16:56):
But the brain does its own crazy things sometimes.
I wish things could be different.
I wish we had more time to continue rewriting our future.
(17:17):
It's been two months or so now and there are still some days where I turn to my partner
and I say, I can't believe my mom's dead.
And the days after her passing to have to go to the grocery store or be out in the world
(17:42):
in any capacity, my brain just kept saying, that person outlived my mom.
Oh, that person's older than my mom.
The coffee creamer I bought in the fridge, the expiration date.
This coffee creamer is outliving my mom.
(18:06):
Being around in the world and feeling like my mom's dead, my mom's dead, my mom's dead.
While everybody else is carrying on with their daily lives.
Following my mom's passing, my family knew we needed some time to prepare her service.
(18:29):
We needed some time to prepare a celebration of life.
And in that month, I found a lump in my breast.
So I had to go through the process of doctor's appointments and scheduling a mammogram and
(18:50):
an ultrasound simultaneously.
I began having pain in my liver.
Each of me was wondering and thinking, maybe my liver is hurting because her liver was
hurting.
Or maybe from spending time in the house and around all of her things, maybe my body was
(19:15):
picking up on some residual energy or pain of hers.
But I knew that I couldn't just brush it off.
I had to make appointments, I had to make calls, I had to get this looked at, I had
to take care of myself.
During my experience scheduling these few tests, I had multiple issues with my doctor
(19:39):
and the referral forms and this form and this code.
And I had to make so many phone calls over the course of two weeks to get things correct
so that everything would be what it needed to be for insurance and such.
And through all the hoops I kept going through, I knew my mom couldn't make these phone calls.
(20:02):
My mom would have given up already.
Oh, you have the wrong referral form?
Oopsie.
She never would have went back and made an appointment.
Driving me forward to take care of myself was knowing I was stronger and tougher than my mom.
(20:28):
Thankfully my scans and everything from my tests came back clear.
I don't have cancer.
A lump in my breast is a lump in my breast, but there it is and it's just normal for me.
But in the month following my mom's death, I then was facing my own health scare.
(20:52):
Then I started to notice my cat was really sick and that my cat Tanner had lost a lot
of weight.
And I thought maybe he's just depressed because I've been depressed.
Maybe he's sad because I haven't been home as much.
But then I noticed that he wasn't eating on his own and so I began to force feed him
(21:16):
and take care of him.
After taking him to the vet and talking with my doctor, we concluded that my cat was also
dying of liver failure or liver disease.
I had barely been able to process my mom's passing, my health scare, and here I was holding
(21:47):
and caring for my cat knowing that his days were numbered.
I gave my cat an IV at home.
I mashed up his food, measured his prescriptions, fed him with a syringe.
(22:09):
I took care of him for three weeks.
It's the same time that my mom was sick.
And during those three weeks, I never wanted to leave my cat's side.
And I would pet him and love him and I would say things to him like, thank you for loving
(22:35):
me.
Find me in another lifetime.
Come back and find me.
Thank you for saving me.
I will miss you so much.
I have never loved anything like you.
There will never be anything as special as you.
(22:57):
My heart and my affection for this cat was just unending.
And it was in that time that I realized I wasn't a psychopath for feeling the way that
I did when my mom was sick and dying.
(23:23):
I was responding very normally for everything that I've been through as an abused person.
But every time I murmured beautiful loving words to my cat, I couldn't help but recognize
(23:44):
the stark contrast of the fact that those were things I would never say to my mom.
I wouldn't say them because I didn't mean them.
But I loved my cat Tanner so much and he loved me unconditionally.
(24:09):
And in the final days of caring for my cat, I learned that one of my very close friends
voted for Trump.
And it wrecked me.
Wrecked my friend group.
(24:29):
My heart had broken so many times.
And I was already feeling so dark and so low.
This has been one of the hardest seasons of life I've ever had to face.
My mom died.
(24:49):
A cancer scare.
My cat is sick.
Trump won the presidency.
Feeling like I've lost a friend and then I had to put my cat down.
(25:15):
I really don't like situations where I have to play God.
It's not for me to decide if someone should live or die.
It's not for me to decide what is right or wrong.
(25:38):
Putting down my cat and having to make that choice was one of the hardest things I've
ever done.
And all the while that I've been feeling these things and holding these things and going
through these things, the world keeps on turning and burning around me.
(26:13):
My favorite metaphor for grief, one that I commonly teach to clients, is to visualize grief and
the grief experience like being on a beach.
Sometimes we're in the sand catching a tan.
(26:34):
It's a calm, lovely day and we're enjoying ourselves and we're thinking, what grief?
It's so far from my mind.
Sometimes we're in the water and we're doggy paddling.
Our head is above water.
We're making progress.
We're having our feelings, but we're treading water.
(26:55):
We're doing okay.
Other times the waves are high and you can't catch your breath and there's just so much
salt water in your nose and you're choking and you're gagging and you're drowning.
Some days it feels like that.
(27:18):
I had been sitting on the previous podcast episodes, this YouTube video, lots of little
content pieces for social media.
None of it mattered anymore.
Nothing felt important anymore.
Fuck, it still doesn't.
(27:48):
But as depressed as I am and as hopeless as I am and as angry as I am, I know that I cannot
keep quiet and I know that I need to keep creating and I know that the world needs my
(28:09):
voice now more than ever.
This is not a time for Radically Rachael to be silent.
And it doesn't matter if what I say is pretty, but it matters that I show up.
And I understand now more than ever why my soul chose this time, this time here and now,
(28:38):
this day and age to incarnate.
I picked the United States, one of the darkest, vibrationally low places on the planet.
I absolutely believe that the United States is dark.
We are a suffering, hurting people.
(29:03):
And the world needs my light.
The world needs my voice.
I need to use my privilege.
I need to use my white privilege to speak up for others and to speak up for those that
do not have the advantages or the access or the resources or the privilege that I do.
(29:29):
And I need to keep speaking and keep sharing and keep educating from this place of privilege
and power that I have.
And that requires me to show up as my true self, my whole self, my authentic self, and
that I'm not just trying to be liked and I'm not just trying to be polished, but it's
(29:54):
okay to be messy and it's okay to be ugly because that's just where I am right now.
That's what's real.
I've known now for a few weeks that I would have to create an episode in which I share
and then my mom died.
(30:18):
But even though she is dead, the impact that she has had on me and the way that she shapes
my stories does not end.
And it's not over here.
This is just the end of one chapter and now I have to begin another.
(30:40):
I'm going to end today's episode by reading some passages from the memorial piece I wrote
and shared at my mother's funeral.
My mother taught me all I know about God, heaven, angels, spirit guides, ghosts, mediums,
(31:06):
and psychics.
Oh my!
She also taught me about loving and caring for all humans and especially those who are
marginalized, oppressed, and lacking equal human rights.
She was passionate about voting and not just in the presidential elections.
(31:28):
She was always making sure we were all registered and going out for every small and local election
as well.
She wanted to make a difference in this world and I believe she did.
She used her voice and her own social media platform to amplify the stories of others,
(31:50):
to educate and bring awareness to social justice issues, health care, reproductive rights,
LGBTQ rights, gun safety, climate change, racial justice, and more.
Many Facebook friends of my mom's commented sharing beautiful stories about how she encouraged
(32:11):
them through their divorce, supporting them through mental illness or crisis, or championed
for them online as a keyboard warrior.
Interestingly enough, many of the people commenting on my mom's Facebook were scattered across
the country and some of which she'd never met face to face.
(32:33):
One woman shared a lovely story about meeting my mom at a local bar where there was live
music and dancing.
My mom swept her away on the dance floor and they became fast friends.
They bonded late into the night, diving into one another's histories.
My mom was like that.
(32:54):
She could make friends anytime, anyplace.
She truly was a social butterfly and has always gathered the kindest, most beautiful people.
She loved connection and celebration.
Give her a reason to bust out the china, the cloth napkins, or tequila shots.
(33:18):
My mom has shared this poem on more than one occasion and she read it at my grandfather's
funeral.
It's called I Had a Father Who Talked with Me by Hilda Bigelow.
I have adapted it a little bit to better fit the occasion, with some slight commentary
to suit my mom, of course.
(33:40):
I had a mother who talked with me, allowed me the right to disagree, sometimes.
To always question, sometimes.
And always answered me, as well as she could, and truthfully, sometimes too in detail.
(34:01):
She talked of adventures, horrors of war, of life, its meaning, what love was for.
How each would always need to strive to improve the world to keep it alive.
Rest the duty we owe one another to be aware each human is a sister or brother.
(34:24):
Words for laughter, she also spoke a silly song or happy joke.
Time runs along, some say I'm wise, that I look at life with seeing eyes.
My heart is happy, my mind is free.
I had a mother who talked with me.
(34:47):
I had a mother who talked with me about all things spirituality.
She believed that we were meant to question and we were meant to wrestle with things,
spiritually speaking.
So of course, as children, we often ask, why?
Why do bad things happen?
(35:08):
Why is there suffering?
And maybe some of you are asking those same questions today, as an adult.
If there was a question we asked our mom and she didn't know, she would refrain from
the song lyrics, Someday we'll know, by the new radicals.
(35:29):
Because she knew and believed that one day when we are all at the big party in heaven,
we all would know, we would all have our questions answered.
The big wonders and whys that separate us and divide us here on earth.
We can look forward to knowing that someday we won't have to wonder, because someday
(35:52):
we will be able to ask God and know.
Our mom raised us to be faithful and fierce.
She encouraged my spiritual gifts, my sisters, and she wasn't afraid or ashamed to tell
others of her own.
She called herself a mystic, and today I claim the same online.
(36:17):
My mom walked so radically Rachael could run.
I wouldn't be the woman, the teacher, the leader I am today, if it weren't for my mom
giving me the very foundation.
Whether it was in our home, at church, as my Sunday school teacher, or out in the world,
(36:42):
she wanted us to know and believe that God is speaking every day in many ways.
He is not confined to the Bible written by man.
And she wanted us to have our own personal relationship with God, Spirit, Universe.
And we do.
(37:03):
And because of the fervor in which she shared about how beautiful life was beyond, in heaven,
because she could perceive it, I believe that I and many others have probably felt her nearby
already.
Maybe an old song on the radio, an article on social media, the smell of cinnamon rolls,
(37:28):
a cardinal flying by, a dragonfly.
And I feel like I've perceived her sense of humor from beyond as well.
I'm going to end my podcast episode here with a story that I also shared at the service.
This is one of the first times that I heard my mom's voice in spirit.
(37:52):
The day after she passed, my sister, Alexis, had prompted me that I should call the funeral
home since we hadn't heard from them yet.
And I said, it's only been a day.
We just filled out the form at the hospital.
They'll call.
And Allie said, I don't want mom to be lost.
(38:12):
Still did I know her spidey senses were tingling.
The next day, I called the funeral home.
They hadn't heard about my mom.
Call the hospital, they said.
Then I called the hospital.
And they told me to call the funeral home.
And after a very painful call with someone from the hospital, I hung up so enraged that
(38:37):
they had neglected to contact the funeral home as they were supposed to do.
My mom would have to wait to be picked up another day?
I was angry that my mom had been lost and was waiting for someone to claim her.
My dad shared my frustration and we both were fuming.
(38:57):
But then suddenly I heard her in my mind say, that's okay.
Jesus rose on the third day.
And immediately the bubble of anger within me burst and I laughed because I knew what
she was telling me with that comment.
She wasn't in the hospital.
She wasn't in the morgue.
(39:19):
She wasn't in her body.
She was with me.
Her spirit was with me right there.
I didn't need to be angry.
She was already beyond, here, there, everywhere.
I can hear her.
I still do.
(39:41):
My mom and I are talking way more now in her death than we ever did when she was alive.
And I know that she is going to haunt the hell out of me.
I ended the memorial by singing the song Someday We'll Know, which was originally performed
and written by the New Radicals in 1998.
(40:04):
It was later made popular in the movie A Walk to Remember by Switchfoot.
But the New Radicals tape was a cassette that was always on repeat in our minivan back when
I was a kid.
For any of you who are hurting, grieving, and you still have big questions that you
(40:27):
need answered, give them to Spirit.
And if you don't hear the answers or receive the comfort tonight, I trust and believe that
Someday We'll Know.
(40:47):
And right now, friends, I'm still on that boat.
Very hurt, very dark.
I'm out on grief beach and I wish someone would throw me a life jacket.
But I know in time I'm going to get better at swimming.
And sometimes I will be on the beach soaking up the sun.
(41:16):
And today and the darkness that I feel for myself and the country will someday be behind
me, won't be as close to where it is today.
I wish I could understand or explain why bad things happen.
I wish I could explain why there is loss and grief and suffering and pain and heartache
(41:42):
and death.
I don't have the answers.
Right now all that I'm clinging to is the truth and the belief that I have in knowing
that everything is being worked out for the highest good of all.
(42:06):
And so that is our affirmation today, friends.
I trust that everything is working out for my highest good.
I trust that everything is working out for the highest good of all.
I trust that everything is working out.
(42:29):
Thanks for joining me, friends.
I'll talk to you next week.
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