Moo » My Mom, Iris

My Mom, Iris

My Mom, Iris
Current mood: sad

passed away this afternoon at 3:30 pm eastern time. I was holding her hand and my father and brother were right next to us. She went peacefully. Her two year ordeal is over. She was tired of being sick and tired of being in pain.

She got to spend a week with her granddaughters this summer. She told me she loved them so much she couldn’t stand it. I know how she feels. She got to spend time with my brother last week- they hung out and watched a movie together. I talked with her on the phone a week and a half ago. Our last words were I love you.

My mom was a stubborn lady. When she fell ill two years ago, the doctor’s did not expect her to survive. In fact, when she emerged from the coma, the doctor said he had never seen anyone that sick live through the ordeal.

She stood by her convictions- even taking a fight to the New York Supreme court. She told a couple to “go fuck themselves” when they were whispering and pointing when we were having dinner in a fancy restaurant in Suffern New York with friends of the family that were black.

One night- when I was 16 and going on a date with a cute girl for the first time, my mother said as we were leaving the house “If you’re going to have sex, use a condom!” Suffice to say, I didn’t get any that night.

She was a brilliant talent- people would invite themselves to dinner just to have her french fries. Every year for my birthday as a child, I got to choose from a book of cakes shaped like dogs and frogs and elephants and whatever I wanted, she would make and it looked EXACTLY like the picture and was the best cake I ever had. Her needlepoint and cruel work won awards and she was asked to speak at events. She as a nurse for over 20 years. She taught at a nursing school for several years. She would run into a student every now again years later and they would tell my mom what an amazing influence and teacher she was.

My mother was one of the most difficult people I have ever known and also one of the most compassionate and loving. Even when we fought at our worst, I never felt unloved.

She gave me my moral base, my drive for truth and conviction of beliefs. She helped me to think objectively and critically at the same time.

I makes me incredibly sad to know that I will never again be able to flick peas at her during dinner and have her call me an idiot. Or see tears in her eyes when she talks about my daughters and how much she loves them and is proud of them.

I was wanting her to meet her great grandchildren. When she went through 10 hospitalization since June, I was going to settle for a week at thanksgiving. I am certain if she could have made it that long, she would have.

I held my mother’s hand today as her heart stopped beating- there was a moment about 20 minutes before the nurse came in to pronounce her were I felt something intrinsic change. It was not long after we had said our goodbyes to her- she was in a semi-coma, totally non-responsive; but I did feel something change.

I would like to believe that that was her being at rest, saying goodbye, finally letting go; shaking the mortal coil and back to whatever it is that makes us, and everything, what we are.

I’ll miss you so much mom. Thank you for everything.

Your son,


Iris Silverman

1935 – 2006


(Note: yahoo, the fuckers, wont allow me to link directly to my pictures. I will publish to my web site and re-edit this post when I have a chance. Below is a picture of a pictire of my mom, dad an daughters from a few years back and the rest are examples of her artistry)


Mom with Soraya

1 Comment »

  1. Janice Darwin said,

    October 2, 2008 at 1:06 pm

    I came across your article about the loss of your mother. I wondered if she might be the Iris I met in 1956 at Shepard Pratt Hospital in Towsen, MD. We were nursing students at the time. Would you e-mail me a picture?


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