The Suffering Is Over

Yesterday afternoon my Mother-In-Law, Lela died. She was 83 years old and had an incredibly invasive thyroid cancer that had spread. She died of heart failure.

I first met Lela in 1984 shortly after I took up with her son. I had spoken to her on the phone once before I met her where she quizzed me on my heritage, my intentions, my son and my family. I didn't take it personally. I understood her concern for her son. Good thing I didn't tell her I didn't really know my intentions, not then anyway.

She visited us frequently for extended stays over the years and life with her wasn't always easy. She was frugal in the extreme and watched like a hawk over how I ran my household. Those were the days when I was still working as a real estate agent and I tended to be a bit careless especially if I was very busy. We had a few head butts along the way but always sorted those out. I think it was a game with her, she had no real objections to me. I think the only thing that really mattered to her was that I loved her son. Once that was established she was incredibly generous with me more so than her own daughter and I know she loved me although she didn't tell me, at least not until much later. And I loved her.

During one of her visits my son who was at University in a different city, came home for the weekend and brought along all his dirty laundry. As he was heading to the basement to toss his clothes in the washer Lela was outraged and I mean really really outraged, that I let him do his own laundry. It's a funny memory now, one of many, but at the time it wasn't funny. I explained that in Canada boys of eighteen know how to do laundry and furthermore he'd been doing it for years and occasionally even did mine. Only Greeks would understand this I think, she didn't talk to me for a couple of days after that.

Lela's life was not easy. She was born and raised in Greece, married young, had three children and was widowed in her late twenties. As a young widow with three children she did an amazing job of raising them all. She never remarried preferring her life alone. She found work baking for restaurants, taking in laundry and cleaning homes. Just about the work available for women without formal education in post war Greece.

When my husband immigrated to American in the early 70's and her daughter to Canada around the same time she chose to move to California with Steve. It didn't take her long to find employment; she loved cooking, cleaning and taking care of people. The jobs she preferred were as live in caregiver to the elderly.

When Steve moved to Canada in 1984 she decided to return to Greece. She had a house there and it was time for her to stop working. She still made trips to Canada every couple of years until her heart started giving her grief. After that Steve would go visit her for a month every year and because I had my own family obligations I couldn't go with him. Two years ago after my Mom died I started going with Steve to spend time with her.

Two years ago she told me that she loved me the first time ever. She also told me that now that my own Mom was no longer with us, she was my new mother.

Last year for her birthday I knit her a shawl. Steve has promised me that she will be buried in it. Since I couldn't see her and hug her before she died, this is my forever hug.

Now not only does Steve not have a Mom any more, neither do I. This will always be my favourite photo of Lela...may she rest in peace.