It’s way overdue



We buried my mother this past Saturday.

I usually try to keep it pretty light in this column. My readers seem to like it more when I’m writing something funny about my kids, or admitting how much weight I’ve gained over the years, or making fun of fifteen year old kids for Trick-or-Treating.

But we buried my mother this past Saturday, and I’m going to use this column to vent. A few of you aren’t going to like what I have to say, but that doesn’t bother me. And fair warning to you- this column gets pretty graphic.

My mother was diagnosed a couple of years ago with Dementia. It was complicated by scar tissue build-up, which she received from brain surgery she had as a teenager. Dementia is exactly what it sounds like- eventually the patient ends up being demented. There is no “maybe” or “what ifs” or anything like that. All roads lead to losing their ability to walk, talk, eat, and eventually even think clearly.

Not long after she was diagnosed, my sister and I made the decision for her to enter the nursing home here in our town. My sister had been pretty much taking care of our mother by herself until then, but it just proved to be too much. She was constantly falling, her moods were all over the place, and her condition was ruining two lives, not just one.

And while we as a family were incredibly satisfied with the care she received in the nursing home, the truth of the matter is long before she lost her mind, she was unhappy. Her spirit and quality of life left her long before her wits did. Everything we loved about this woman died well over a year ago. For the past 365 days she existed as a mumbling, wheelchair bound, emotional one hundred pound ball of pity.

In the end, it got really ugly. In her diminished state of mind, she kept ripping her feeding tube out of her stomach. The doctor told us that we had two choices- we could choose to leave the feeding tube in as long as she was restrained twenty four hours a day, or we could remove the tube and let nature take its course. In other words we could tie our mother down like a mad pit bull in the back yard for who knows how long, or we could starve our mother to death. We chose the second option, and luckily it only took four days instead of the projected two weeks that it could have taken.

Other than my sister, nobody on Earth knew my mother as well as I did. And I am one hundred percent positive that if it would have been legal, my mother would have chosen to end her life long before it got that bad. She would have chosen euthanasia, or assisted suicide, or whatever you want to call it. Whatever name you attach to it, it beats the Hell out of someone changing your diapers for the last year of your life.

The fact that Oregon is the only state in America where assisted suicide is legal (Oregon Death With Dignity Act, 1997) is appalling to me. It’s ridiculous, disgusting, and back-woodsy of the so-called smartest nation on Earth. We’ve come so far in women’s rights, civil rights, gay rights, children labor laws, etc. But for some reason, we still refuse to allow terminally ill patients to choose when and how they die. Everyone in America deserves dignity except the dying, unless you happen to live in Oregon.

And why? Can anybody reading this column write in and give me one good reason why it’s still illegal to end your own misery? To keep yourself from being a burden on your loved ones? To die with a little pride left? I did a fair amount of internet surfing on this subject, and I’ve yet to find a credible argument against euthanasia.

I know it can’t be tax dollars. I promise you that Medicaid and Medicare spent more money keeping my mom alive the past year than the government earned from taxes that she paid.

It could be regulated fairly easily. In Oregon, at least two doctors have to sign off on the decision to assist the patient, as well as a psychologist. You don’t have to worry about the young wife killing the old rich husband off.

If your answer is religion, you can keep it. After watching a grandmother battle Alzheimer’s, a childhood friend with Lou Gehrig’s Disease, and now a mother with Dementia, religion isn’t the answer I’m looking for or listening to anymore.

If there is a God, he’s got some explaining to do.

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Landa Mowery



Let me begin by saying that the children, grandchildren and other family members of Landa Mowery want to express our gratitude to everyone helping us celebrate her life this morning. We know the temperature is rising by the minute, and we promise not to keep you out here very long.

Also, we would like to thank Sherrie Conn for making the Hearne Community Center available to us for lunch after the services. To those who donated something to the dinner, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Please drop by and eat with us when we are done here.

And now, let’s talk about Mom.

Landa was born in Portsmouth, Ohio on December 29, 1948. She was 62 years old at the time of her passing, which was Wednesday September 28, 2011. She had been a resident of the Hearne Health Center for approximately a year and a half, and the family is so grateful for the wonderful care she received from the loving and caring staff during her stay. Thankfully, she was surrounded by family when her time came.

We are so happy that Mom’s older sister, Toni, could be here with us today. Toni is battling cancer for the second time, and we pray for a speedy recovery for her. She certainly has the family’s love behind her.

Mom’s younger sister, Kim, is also here with her family. Mom thought the world of both her sisters, and as her children we take comfort in knowing that the feeling was mutual. They were a tight bunch, for sure.

Mom had six children- Glen, Teresa, Rob, Jay, Shannon and Raymond. Jay couldn’t be here with us today, but thankfully the rest of us made it- as did our father, Glen Wilson, all the way from South Carolina. We thank him so much for being here in our time of need.

Sixty two years old sounds young, doesn’t it? In our minds, we picture ourselves much older when we die- mid ‘70s at least, maybe even beyond that. But don’t fool yourselves. Mom lived enough life for all of us. In fact, you could almost say she lived several different lives.

There’s an old saying that goes something like this- Don’t look back on yesterday, or you’ll get depressed. Don’t worry too much about tomorrow, or you’ll get too anxious. Live for today, and you’ll always be in the moment. And I agree with that saying 99% of the time.

But I have to believe that when Mom looked back on her past, she had to do so with pride. I say pride because she overcame so many challenges and obstacles, demons and ghosts, struggles and hardships.

I was nine years old when Mom went through a divorce and once again became a single mother. With her chin held high, she worked her fingers to the bone night and day to put food on the table and clothes on our backs. I can remember more than once when she held down two jobs to make ends meet.

I don’t mean to make it sound like she was all work and no play. Mom knew a good time when she saw it, in fact a good many of you here now probably remember some of those times. She loved to share a beer or two, had a quick smile that she showed often, and would dance the soles right off of her shoes.

A few years ago she had a very serious car wreck. As these things sometimes do, it changed her life drastically and forced her to re-evaluate her priorities. Family became even more important to her, she dedicated herself to working even harder than before… and she found religion.

Oh, she was serious with her religion, too. If you ever stopped by to check on her when you were in a hurry, you’d find out just how serious she was about it. She’d talk your ears off about Jesus, and unless you had a good excuse for getting away, you were just going to hear it.

A quick story about that: A few years back my boss took me for a ride in his small airplane. Now, I had never been on a plane before, and I was scared to death. This thing was small, not much more than a soda can with wings. But once we got in the air I really enjoyed it, and the first call I made back on the ground was to Mom.

“Mom,” I yelled. “It was so smooth and peaceful up there, I couldn’t believe it.”

She let out a long sigh, and sounded like she was dreaming when she said “Son, just think how it will be in Heaven.”

I chuckled to myself when she said it- I just wasn’t used to her newfound religious views yet. But today I know she’s on the smoothest, most peaceful ride that she’s ever been on.

And that’s what we’d like for everyone to remember about our mother- she was several different women in her lifetime, and we are here to celebrate all of them.

Some of us here knew the wild and crazy Landa, some of us knew the conservative, devoted Christian Landa. But we all remember the loving mother, grandmother, sister and friend that worked tirelessly and stayed fiercely independent and hard-headed till the end.

And if you don’t believe that last part, just ask the nurses who tended to her these last few days. At least one of them is glad that Mom didn’t have her dentures in anymore.

Again, thank you all for being here. It warms our hearts to know so many people thought that much of our mother.