My mom’s abrupt death two years ago had a huge impact on the journey I’m on today. The most surprising part about the experience was the emotions I felt. If you told me that my mom would be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and die 13 days later, I would have expected to feel sadness, anger, and frustration.
But the emotion I overwhelmingly felt during the actual experience was gratitude.
I have been struggling for ways to express these thoughts and recently came across this interview from Dr. Roland Griffiths, who expressed these sentiments much better than I could.
Dr. Griffiths is one of my personal heroes – a world-renowned neuroscientist at Johns Hopkins who decided late in his life to risk his career by studying psychedelic compounds (on thousands of patients and himself).
Recently, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He’ll most likely die this year. His emotions: overwhelming awe and gratitude for life.
The link below starts towards the end of the interview, where he talks about his studies giving psilocybin to terminally ill patients and his personal emotions while facing death.
I’ve also pasted below the email I wrote following my mom’s death two years ago that tried to express similar sentiments.
As Steve Jobs said, “Death is the greatest invention of life,” – and I think rethinking death is an important piece of the puzzle regarding health.
Here’s the email I wrote two years ago:
Last night, my mother, Gayle Brown Means, passed away at 71 years old.
My mom had a life-changing impact on countless people. Her spirit transcends concepts of time and place. It is beyond the ability of the English language to articulate the energy she gave to the world. Although it is impossible for me to put into words how much my mom meant to me and so many others, I wanted to share information about her final days and plans to celebrate her.
13 Days of Love and Gratitude
On January 7th, 13 days ago, my mom went to the doctor’s office because she felt fatigued and had a stomach ache. A scan revealed she had Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer that had spread to the liver. We learned this type of cancer was impossible to cure, and her time left was very short.
Leslie, Casey, and I quickly came to Half Moon Bay. We spent last week sitting outside on our porch with my mom overlooking the ocean, telling stories and reading letters, emails, songs, and text messages from those who loved and knew her. Gayle was beloved. Gayle was different, embodying some magic and sparkle that was cosmic and powerful. Gayle was a mentor, a guide, a role model, and a profound inspiration to countless people. Gayle had empowered people to think differently about how they lived their lives: to be more joyful, more grateful, more present, more eccentric, more exuberant, more generous. Many referred to her as a “mom” and “sister.” Many said she brightened any room she was in. Many celebrated her bright and happy style, her leopard print outfits, her flamingos, her decorations, her adventurous travel, her piano playing, her parties, and the spectacular memories of being with her, her laugh, her great interest and love of the people she met, her obvious joy, happiness, and positive energy, her many acts of kindness. She was in a constant state of self-improvement, voraciously reading about and changing her mind on topics as varied as spirituality, Middle Eastern History, and nutrition. To many, interactions with Gayle were pivotal, profound events in the trajectory of their lives. Her impact on us and how she impacted our spirits and lives set us off on trajectories that are more special and bright and have a ripple effect that will be eternal. She was the GayleBird. She was the GayleForce. She was our best friend. No one enjoyed life, family, friends, and her home more than Gayle. These final days of laughing, crying, and reminiscing with my mom were magical and ones we will never forget.
On Saturday morning, my mom’s health took a turn for the worse. She was very weak, and she started to lose control of her speech. In a burst of energy, she asked that we take her to the site where she’ll be buried – a rustic forest grove overlooking the fields and ocean off Half Moon Bay, which she loved, just 3 minutes from our house. We quickly drove her there and took her in a wheelchair to the site. My mom expressed amazement at the beauty of the ocean view, and we hugged as a family. She then had a private conversation with my dad, where they embraced each other and talked about how magical their life was. It was the most special and transcendent moment I’ve ever witnessed. Almost immediately after, my mom lost consciousness.
Since the cancer is incurable and the prognosis on life expectancy very low no matter which route we took, my mother’s wish was to pass away in our house surrounded by family. In her final days, my mom lay in our family room, unconscious and peaceful. Last night at 9pm, we heard her breathing intensify. My father, sister, and Leslie sat around her bed holding each other’s hands and discussing through tears how much my mother’s spirit meant to us and how it will live forever. My mom took a big last gasp, and that spirit left her body.
My mom’s life and the heroic way she lived her final days have hard-wired us how true statements like “life every day to the fullest” are. This is sudden and deeply sad, but we are at peace and full of gratitude and love. My mom has had an impact and changed so many people she came into contact with, and there is no question that her energy and spirit are still very much with us.
While we cannot have a large gathering now because of COVID, we invite you to come visit us in Half Moon Bay when you can, stay with us, tell stories, look at pictures, take long walks on the beach, visit Gayle’s spectacular burial site, and celebrate her wonderful life. Casey, Leslie, and I will be here in the near future (perhaps longer). We will consider this a rolling, long-term party, just as Gayle would want.
Thanks to everyone for the thoughtful reflections on my mom. We want to thank everyone who showered Gayle and us with so much love.
With love and gratitude,
Calley
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Calley Means 