01/03/2023
a time to be born and a time to die…..
So many have commented to us since the tornado that we lost our family home. My response has always been, “We lost the building I grew up in. My family home is where my mother is.” Well on Saturday morning, I did lose my family home, Mom passed away very peacefully. I will no longer make the drive to Taopi to visit her. I will no longer call her on the phone. It’s okay…..she is with me always now.
Remember, I process my feelings through writing. Since the tornado, as a family, we have strived to make her life as comfortable for her as possible. To be carried out of her home of 72 years in the middle of the night took an emotional toll on her. Our mother had difficulty asking us to pick up groceries, paint a wall, or whatever before the tornado. Those feelings of independence did not leave when her house was demolished. She was grateful for Mary and Al’s welcome. However, it was not easy for her. She never wanted to be a burden….and she never was. She could not make herself believe that though. She didn’t complain….well that’s maybe a little bit of lie….I sometimes was late getting to Taopi. She learned to accept a little more help, we learned again that laughing was easier then crying as she taught us.
The last couple of weeks we could see her getting weaker. She never stopped “walking” until the final week. I think mom walked about a mile most days until the year she turned 90. Then it began to be less, only to the bridge, then only around town, then only to the post office box, then the rail. Last week, she would get up and walk in a triangle from her chair to the tv to the couch and back to the chair. “If I don’t do it, I might not be able to do it tomorrow.” She had a good Christmas, she ate, she visited, she laughed. Monday, she changed. I began praying differently. I had been praying for God’s will. She was ready, she was tired, I wanted her at peace. I became a little bit more aggressive with God—He can take it! I slept in bits and pieces at night, waking up praying each time for God to let her be with Dad on his birthday. I must have pleaded with Him hundreds of times. Dad’s birthday was December 31. God answered Yes early on the 31st. She looked beautiful and peaceful.
Sometimes it is hard to see God in these times of sadness. We have to look. Just like with the tornado, He was evident in the people who were still alive—how did Randy and Cleone walk out of that building? How did mom not have a scratch on her? He was there in every person who made a sandwich, picked up a stick, or gave a hug.
He was very present in Mary’s home this past week. I learned through the hospice workers that during the transitional phase of life to death, the person often has visions and hear things as the brain transitions. Mom had both. In each, I kept thinking she was experiencing “God”. She would sit in a chair and feel that someone was sitting next to her. I would ask if she was scared and she always said no, but could not understand how come I couldn’t see them. She often heard a baby crying. She could not understand how it seemed so real. She would experience these things and remember to talk about them later. I thought she was talking in her sleep….”Oh little baby boy, you are so sad, but I can’t lift you. Somebody come help me. He is so sad.” I don’t know who that little baby was. I keep thinking it is one of 3 possibilities. It is Christmas time---maybe it was Baby Jesus? Was it Gary Michael, our brother who died at 3 days old? Or was it Mary’s new grandson born just before midnight on the 31st? Maybe it was each of them, it happened more than once. It doesn’t matter. It was my mom still trying to take care of someone. So I can’t help but think it was fitting, that Pope Benedict wanted to es**rt her home!
