Where's Mother?

On July 10th of this year, my tiny, frail, confused Mother closed her eyes, and breathed her last' just moments after my Father had left her. They were married for 63 years. My sister was notified, and was devastated, no matter that she was 90, with every indication screaming that she was at the end of this journey the loss was just as great as if she had been taken in her 30th year of life. My sister broke my heart, describing her precious last moments with my Mom...the 2 of them quietly together in the hospital bed...one, whose pain was now relieved, and one very much alive whose pain was overflowing... She pleaded for her mother not to leave her, because she had promised to wait.

This depth of pain is all so personal, coming from different emotions...love...pain...the yearning for love stolen away, and also for love hoped left to come. My Mother had been stolen from us bit by bit, moment by moment. Events forgotten, experiences forgotten, memories of yesterday gone, while some from 40 years ago popping by in vivid detail. Sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes painstaking, the disease ate away at the very core of my Mother's being and would have horrified her to witness herself. My Father, now 86 and not well himself, took every care to keep my mother at home as long as possible, as did my sister. The very basic needs of life were now theirs to provide, and provide them they did irregardless of the mood or cognition of my mother. Their vigil over her care followed to the Nursing Home as they visited daily, looked after her appearance, her comfort. It is so hard to let go when your invested in keeping someone alive but it seems as though she had made a choice that it was time to leave.

This was for me a time of pain, and heartbreak, but my loss was more from the past...yearning for the tender moments between mother and daughter, the depth of connection that she shared with my sister, I would have traded anything for a small piece of her heart. Ironically, the very disease that took her from us, helped me to find a softer side to her. She became welcoming and physically tender with me in the years before her death, and that is a gift for me that I will forever treasure and cling to.

My sons had a Grandmother who would have challenged an elephant in order to protect them, and Paul, who lives close by to them, was especially close to her. If you looked carefully at him through Mom's eyes, you cloud see a halo over his head! My youngest son was specially excited to have his "cuddles" with "Nana" after I shared with her that he thought she didn't really like him, she took special care to shower him with hugs and kisses, cuddles and quiet times together, something he will never forget.

During the wake there was an open casket initially, and I took the opportunity to give her a final kiss, and held her cold hand. Her body was there but her spirit was long gone. Even though I believe in God, and I believe in the crucifixion, and the love of Christ I had an overwhelming desire to ask ..."Where's my Mother....where has she gone?" My faith used to be so strong, so much a part of me, but I have let it slide underneath the worries
of everyday. So I begin my journey anew so I can be with my Mother again in a place where there is no sadness, no more tears, and no more pain.