RIP Mom.

*This memory is a continuation of the 'I Have A Son Who Looks Like You' memory.

On the following day after our mother’s death, my brother and I needed to start making all her final arrangements. My brother would be cleaning out our mother’s room at the nursing home before heading back to the States. The management already had another elderly woman slated to move in that week, so the sooner the room was cleaned out the better.

For the most part there was not a lot worth keeping. With the exception of some old photos and other little mementos, I am pretty sure everything else got thrown out. My brother gave me a few items he thought my daughter would like to keep including a pearl necklace. My mother always told me that she wanted Stephanie to have it someday.

It would be my job to handle all the final arrangements while my brother would be organizing her memorial talk. Our game plan was to have the talk the following Sunday afternoon at her Kingdom Hall.

Back when we lived in the Jungle my mother was employed part-time at the Eaton’s store in the Yorkdale Mall. My mother always said she never wanted to be a burden to anyone financially when her life ended. She was adamant, she never wanted anyone to be out of pocket when that time came. I remember when she told me she had purchased a life insurance policy and she was quite happy that she would never be a burden to anyone.

The policy she bought was through Eaton’s and premiums were discounted for employees. I myself was just a kid at the time and I never really understood what insurance was. My mother explained that when she died there would be enough money for my brother and me to take care of all her final arrangements.

And whatever money was left over, she said we could split between us. Back then I could never have imagined my mother ever dying. I figured she was wasting her money and neither I nor my brother would ever see any of the money anyway.

My mother’s wishes were to be cremated and to have a memorial talk at her Kingdom Hall. She wanted nothing extravagant or expensive, she told me many times she wanted the cheapest cremation possible. I had never taken care of a person’s final wishes before and I really had no idea what to do. I knew it would be pretty expensive for even a basic funeral, but a funeral was not what she wanted. She made that quite clear to me over the years while she was alive.

On Sunday afternoon I sat at my laptop and simply Googled cheap cremations in Toronto. I clicked on the first ad.

A funeral home in Mimico was offering complete cremations with visitations for $1200. I called the number and explained that my mother had passed away the day before at the Humber Memorial Hospital. The woman told me what was included in the price; it sounded pretty cheap and I figured there had to be a catch.

The funeral home would be picking up her body at the hospital and performing the cremation within a couple days. The ashes would then be placed on top of a fireplace mantle in her own private viewing room where guest could come and pay their respects at the funeral home. It sounded perfect to me, exactly what my mother would have wanted. I explained we would not be using or need the private visitation room and I needed to have her ashes ready to be picked up the following Sunday at around noon.

She said that the room was included in the price and her ashes would be there anytime we wanted to pick them up. After confirming with my brother, I signed a few papers consenting for our mother’s body to be released from the hospital and having her cremated.

I paid the full amount of $1325 including taxes on my credit card.

My mother’s wishes would now be honoured exactly as she had always requested. She would be getting her cheap cremation followed by a talk at her Kingdom Hall and most importantly she wouldn’t be a burden to anyone financially.

I had done my job.

Later that day my brother found our mother’s insurance policy while going through her things. The policy was pretty basic; my mother had paid her premiums annually for the last thirty-five years. The amount the policy paid out on her death was $1800. Since he was the executor of her will he would be calling the insurance company Monday morning. He would be letting them know our mother had died and how he should proceed with making a claim.

On Wednesday morning I got a call from the funeral home letting me know that our mother’s ashes were now ready whenever we wanted to pick them up. I told them I would be there on Sunday early afternoon. My brother also called me to let me know the memorial talk was scheduled for 3 pm on Sunday at her Kingdom Hall.

My brother had also talked with the insurance company. Our mother had what was known as a basic term policy and the payout on her death was $1800. She would have considered $1800 a huge payout back in the mid-70's and her policy never went up in value. She had paid a total of just under $1800 in premiums over the thirty-five years while she had the policy. Our mother's insurance policy ended up being nothing more than a savings account. A savings account that paid an additional lousy fifty bucks in interest after thirty-five years. My brother directed the insurance company to send the cheque to me after I sent them the death certificate from the funeral home.

Over the next few days I couldn’t help but spend a lot of time reflecting on my relationship with my mother. I recalled so many instances where I still simply would smile and shake my head in disbelief. Growing up in a housing project while being raised by the most hardcore Jehovah’s Witness was not easy. Many of my recollections made me feel angry and I didn’t want to think about those memories. I tried to focus on the positive happy times the three of us shared together growing up.

Sadly, I didn't have an abundance of happy times that I could recall. I have many nice memories, but very few cherished memories. I sincerely believe the single reason why my relationship with my mother was not a good one was because she was Jehovah’s Witness and I was not. I have no doubt in my mind she always did what she thought was right and she did do her best. However, her myopic stance raising me to be a God fearing Jehovah’s Witness like herself with no alternatives was wrong. If anything it just drove me away even faster and prevented us from ever establishing a normal close mother and son relationship.

I was my mother’s firstborn child, yet I can never recall having any type of maternal bond with my own mother. My brother was the complete opposite as he grasped onto our mother’s religion and also made it his own. He became the God fearing Witness our mother wanted for both of us and he had a very close bond with his mom, my mother.

Sunday morning arrived and Janine and I headed down to the city early, it promised to be a very emotional day. I knew I would be seeing many old friends from my mother’s congregation. Friends I had shared many great times with almost forty years earlier when I was going to the Kingdom Hall during my teenage years. I had no idea what to expect or how many people would be there, but I knew for sure my mother had many close friends. My brother was anticipating that a lot of people would be attending. He told me our seats were up at the front of the hall and were already reserved for family.

The first thing I needed to do was drive to the funeral home and pick up my mother’s ashes. When we arrived we were taken to a visitation room with my mother’s name on a little sign outside the door. The door was open and we walked inside the room. Sitting atop a fireplace mantle was a plain cardboard box that also had my mother’s name on it.

I had never picked up a box with a person’s ashes inside before. The box was much heavier than I expected. I could tell the box was very full and the contents were very dense, it seemed to have the same density and weight as concrete mix. For me it was a strange feeling carrying my own mother’s ashes out to my car. I opened up my trunk and placed the box inside on the driver’s side. Janine thought I should have put the box inside the car with us, but I told her that would be too creepy as I shut the trunk. We now had about an hour which was plenty of time to drive up to the Kingdom Hall before the memorial talk was scheduled to start.

Are you fuck’n kidding me?

No sooner had we gotten ten minutes into our journey, there was a loud popping sound. My rear tire on the driver’s side was completely flat. Up to that point in my life I had never had a tire go flat while I was driving. I pulled over to the side of the road; we were at the southeast corner of Bloor Street and Royal York Road.

Right away I figured my mother was sending me a message and I could hear her voice inside my head saying.

“Michael how dare you put me in the trunk of your car while taking me to my memorial talk”.

The tire that was flat was directly under where I had placed her ashes.

Seriously, I can’t make this shit up.

It was a warm afternoon; Janine and I were both standing outside of the car. We were both dressed up and I was wearing my black suit. There was absolutely no way I would be changing the tire and I called CAA to come and put on the spare. I also assumed there was now no way we would be getting to my mother’s memorial talk in time. The talk would most likely be finished by the time we arrived. We were still a good half-hour plus drive away from the Kingdom Hall and CAA would be at least an hour wait before the tire could be changed.

I had taken the ashes out of the trunk and apologized to my mother for putting her there in the first place. I then placed the box on the backseat with the seatbelt fastened securely. Within fifteen minutes of me calling CAA my spare tire was on the car and we were back on our way. The tow truck driver was right in our area when he got the call from his dispatcher. CAA never shows up that quickly after you call them. I couldn’t help but think my mother was sending me another message and once again, I could hear her voice inside my head.

“Michael if you thought you were getting out of going inside a Kingdom Hall one last time, you’re wrong. Now take me to my memorial talk and drive carefully”.

Within a half-hour we arrived at the Kingdom Hall. My brother met me in the parking lot where I handed him our mother’s ashes. I had absolutely no objection to my brother keeping them, I did not want them. My brother had bought an urn to put them in and I have no idea whether he eventually buried them or just kept them inside his home.

The Kingdom Hall was packed inside, there had to be well over a hundred people there. There were so many old friends who came up to me to say hi and expressed their condolences. Many fun times were reminisced on that afternoon and it felt like I had never left the faith or the Kingdom Hall.

After I paid for my mother’s cremation cost out of her insurance money, there was close to five hundred bucks left over. Everyone who knew my mother knew how much she loved Swiss Chalet and the virgin pina coladas. I invited as many of my mother’s closest friends who I had also known for most of my life to dinner at Swiss Chalet after the memorial talk. We would be eating at the Dufferin Street and Lawrence Avenue location where my mother had eaten literally hundreds of times during her life.

I told everyone I invited that my mother was paying.

It would be one last celebration for a 'sister' who loved those frozen, slushy, coconut flavored, brain freeze inducing concoctions with the little umbrellas.

I know my mom would have definitely approved.

*Mom

I know raising two boys in a housing project while on welfare was not easy for you. I am eternally grateful that you always kept us safe. You always provided us with the necessities as you always called them. I know in my heart that you always did what you thought was best for both Patrick and me. Although, it seemed like we were always at odds with each other, I wish now it could have been better between us.

However, saying that you made me the person who I am today.

I like the person who I am today.

RIP Mom

Love Michael

your firstborn

xoxo