Note: I did a slight re-do of the Celebration of Life video that I posted last Monday. I realized that in all of my editing and re-editing, I had inadvertently deleted the only photo I had of Gage with Mom. Since I had to get back into the editing program anyway, I also added a few photos of mom I took while I was there. You can click here to see the updated video.
The three days I just spent with my sisters taking care of mom in her final hours were some of the most precious I’ve ever experienced.
We were in a sacred space, cocooned in the loveliness of rural surroundings and the peacefulness of a home filled with candles, flowers, prayer, and quiet music. Sometimes we’d take turns with mom’s care and at other times, all three of us would gather together to administer her medicine, laugh with her, arrange her bedding, get her on the bedside toilet, sing to her, cry with her, and listen to her garbled speech as she tried her best to express the last thoughts of her heart.
One of my brothers came to visit before I arrived and another two came while I was there. It filled up my heart to see their tender care for Mom and witness their gentle goodbyes as they got ready to leave, knowing they wouldn’t see her again.
Shortly before my brothers left, mom got quite emotional. She took each person’s hand in hers, looked them in the eye, and said to each one, “I love you.”
We were all in tears thinking, “This is it. This is the time. She is saying her final goodbyes.”
But just when we had all reached the point of being weeping, blubbering messes she suddenly said, “I think I’ll do my exercises.”
And that is exactly what she did. We went from tears to laughter in the space of one leg kick.
Even at the very end, she was setting an example for us. Although she couldn’t communicate clearly with her words, her actions told her gathered children, “Exercise is important. Take care of your body.”
I will never forget her example on those days when I think I am too tired to take a walk. If my dying mom can do leg exercises, I can certainly make it around the block.
On Mom’s one good day (called a rally in hospice terms) she asked for her Bible and prayer list to be brought. Her list contained a variety of names including missionaries and prisoners. After her family, those two groups of people were the closest to her heart.
I was watching her one afternoon as she prayed and was touched beyond words to see her prayers suddenly turn into tears. For Mom, praying was never just spouting off meaningless words by rote. She deeply felt each need, to the point of weeping over particular names and situations. I am forever grateful I was able to catch her prayer time on video. Just 36 hours before her death, her heart was still turned to the needs of others.
Although it was mostly just us three sisters in the house, my nephew, Levi, and brother-in-law, Arnold, were in and out, helping whenever needed. Mom and Levi were the best of pals and she was especially grateful for him because he was the only one who could get her hearing aids in the way she liked.
Mid-afternoon on Thursday, Mom lapsed into a final stillness; for the following fourteen hours, she didn’t move, speak, or open her eyes. But we knew she could still feel love so we gave her plenty of that.
On Friday at 6:06 a.m., that wise and weary heart beat its last and those loving hands went still forever.
The funeral home arrived two hours later and the two men came in to gently wrap mom’s body in a sheet. She looked as tiny as a child as she was wheeled out of the house and into the waiting vehicle.
As I watched, I thought about all the things we say when a loved one gets ready to leave after a visit.
Happy travels. Thanks for being here. I love you.
And those are the words my heart spoke to Mom as she rode away–down her beloved, tree-lined country road under a canopy of her favorite, fluffy clouds.
Her body gone. Her spirit alive.
Her memory already filling all my future days.
I miss you, sweet mamma.
That ‘rally’ (I’ve also heard it call the ‘surge’) is one of the strangest, most special phenomena I’ve ever witnessed. A sudden moment to capture a few more memories, say a few more things, that you never really expected to get. I love that your mom wanted what you have always known was most precious to her — her family and her God.
Kristina,
Yes, that rally was amazing to witness; one minute she’s dying and the next she wants to get in her wheelchair and go to the back deck.
We gathered up some special moments during that rally.
Beautiful post. When my mom passed, we all were with her too, and the last 5 days someone was with her around the clock.
We never quit missing our mom’s. There is a bond that just doesn’t let go.
So glad you were all able to say goodbye and love you and your mom telling you all that she loved you.
So glad you were able to be with her before she went HOME. The love shows through all the pictures and the one with her hands raised – blessed my heart. Both of my parents lived in Kansas and so was with neither of them when they passed away – as they slept. So thankful to know your family was there to be with her and love on her once again.
Sharyn,
What a perfect way for anyone to pass–in their sleep. Glad your parents had a peaceful ending. That must have been such a comfort to you, even though you couldn’t be there.
Thanks for your sweet words about my mom.
I read something somewhere that mentioned when you lose your mother, you lose a part of yourself. Praying for you and your sweet family. Thankful for the wonderful photos you have over the years. So many moments captured. What a blessing!
Suzanne,
I’ve often thought about how fortunate I am to live in the age of digital photographs. I started back when everything was film-based and taking photos was so expensive. I am thrilled to have all those photos representing, as you said, “so many memories captured.”
And I love that quote. So true.
Mrs. Smith, this recent collection of posts about your mom are so wrenching but so lovely at the same time. Reading your words almost made me feel like I had the privilege of knowing some tiny piece of her. What a gift it must have been to love and to be loved by her!
Thank you for sharing a bit of that gift in the midst of such profound sorrow. Surely your mom is so incredibly proud of the legacy she left.
I hope she and Ed are sitting on a wide, comfortable porch, watching innumerable birds flock to a feeder that is never empty and soaking up the joy of being together once again.
Meredith,
What a wonderful word picture to describe a wide, comfortable porch with bird feeders that are never empty.
And I’m so happy that my words and pictures have given you the feeling of knowing Mom a little bit. She would have loved that.
Thanks for your thoughtful and sweet comment.
Beautiful words to describe your mom’s final days. I can only imagine how special it was for all of her girls to be there with her.
Phyllis,
Yes, three sisters and a mom–a beautiful setting for love and laughter and tears.
Dearest Becky, I have been away from your blog for several years but you and your family have always remained in my thoughts and heart regardless. Something nudged me back today. I have spent several hours catching up on the triumphs, trials, joy, sorrows, losses and gains. I have missed so much. I have cried and laughed and have wrapped myself once again in the comfort of your wonderful words, brilliant photographs and your deep faith. It has been a homecoming for me. I did not realize how much you were missed in my life and in my soul. There were reasons for my absence but that is all healed know and I feel I have spent the afternoon getting reacquainted with a long lost friend. Prayers of peace and strength and celebration to all of you.
Mary,
You’re back! So very, very happy to see your name pop up unexpectedly. Welcome, friend!
I’m always honored when a reader mentions spending several hours catching up with past posts. Thank you for taking the time to do that and thank you for another one of your always beautiful comments.
Looking forward to seeing your name around here more often. Many hugs.
This is awesome.
Becky, that was just beautiful. I was with my sweet momma when she passed and I can’t imagine NOT being there. It was such a blessing and I know that you know exactly what I mean. Hugs.
Lee Anne,
It is a wonderful blessing to be present, isn’t it?
What a blessing to have those last days with your mom. What a sacred peace you were able to experience with her and your sweet sisters. It’s different when your final parent is gone. Praying for you as you live through all the firsts this next year will hold.
Lisa,
You are so right about the feeling when the last parent passes away. Steve and I were talking about it and we said, “We’re next in line!” Sobering.
Bec, all your posts about mom have been wonderful. You have spoken for us all. Thank you for doing that.
So very glad she is in heaven–perfection.
Ruth
Thank you, Ruth.
So glad they’ve been meaningful to you and others. They were a joy to write–even in the midst of tears.
The Celebration of Life video is so beautiful. I love seeing Jo Ann at the piano playing ‘The Old Rugged Cross’ and hearing her laugh. Really enjoyed reading your sister Deb’s comments. (Dmantik)
Hugs & Prayers
Gloria,
Thank you! I always enjoy reading Debbie’s comments too. 🙂
As a daughter-in-law, i can testify to everything the daughters did for Mom. Phil and I were there on Tuesday to say goodbye. And that we did. A few times while we were there that day. Thankful for the one more time to say and hear her say I Love You. All day long, one of you 3 sisters, or all of you at once, were jumping up to attend to your Mother. There was little sleep being had that week. You were all very tired and worn out. But you never stopped answering her every wish. You were all amazing to say the least. In my last conversation with Mom, I said, “give my Mom and Dad a hug when you see them.” Knowing they are in Heaven waiting for everyone here. I know this is what people are thinking as they read this post. Heaven. Thinking about their own loved ones that are there in a place that we can’t even imagine. What a reunion that will be. Beautiful post, Becky. Love you three sisters!!
Carol,
What a sweet and thoughtful comment. Thank you for taking the time to write it.
Love you, too!
Beautiful…
Thanks so much, Sue Ellen.
Thank you for that beautiful recounting of our mama’s last days. How can the heart be full and empty at the same time? Full of thanksgiving for those last incredibly precious days we girls had helping her make the transfer to heaven. So very empty because she’s gone. She. is. gone. I can’t hug her or hear her voice anymore. And that changes everything.
The death of my mom is a different kind of a loss, different from any other loss I’ve known. I didn’t know just how oddly empty it would feel. I keep trying to picture her there in heaven. What is she doing? How does she feel? What was it like finally meeting Jesus face to face and being reunited with her loved ones?
So I go on faith, not on sight now. Faith that heaven is real and that I will join her there one day. And because she taught me that faith, lived that faith in front of me my whole life, I can see it was genuine. It was enough. She left me a clear path to follow. As it says on her and dad’s headstone, “Until Heaven “. Ok, I’ve got my marching orders.
Deb,
Steve has said the same thing–losing his mom was so much harder than losing his dad. It’s a different sort of relationship and a different sort of love.
Your words about your goodbyes and your relationship are truly beautiful. It was an honor to care for her together. I’ll never forget those days.
Oh Becky that was beautiful….it makes me miss my mom so much too…..
Dale,
Moms are wonderful!!
Your words express so much. Prayers.
Patti,
Thank you for the prayers in these days following her death. Not an easy adjustment.