You know that even though I haven’t been posting, I have still been writing. After all, this blog is an e-journal of sorts. My diary, so others will know they are not alone in their feelings. This is what I have written in the last week of Mom’s life. It’s long. If you just want the details of her Celebration of Life Service, feel free to scroll down to the bottom.

The Phone Call

It’s been almost a year since Mom broke her leg. We never thought she’d still be here. There have been many days we just knew the end was near, but here we sit. Mom is the definition of a strong woman in more ways than one!

Monday, we got a phone call from hospice saying she can no longer swallow. No more food will be offered because she aspirates. No more meds that have to be swallowed. Only under the tongue pain meds. The big ones, to keep her comfortable for this last part of her life. It’s the call we have known is coming, but the one we dreaded. We have a week left. Maybe more, maybe less, but this is the end.

Dad called to relay the message with a tremor in his voice. This is the moment. It is here. Game time. Time to surround and support. To brace ourselves for the hardest days of the journey. The tears are close now, as it seems they have been for the past 7 years. Eyes filled to the brim, always waiting to spill over. Now, the spilling begins in earnest. The good part of this journey, if there is a good part, is we have learned to let them flow. Let them go. We have red runny noses, and puffy eyes. This journey has brought the honesty of emotions with it. It is the most real expression of what is in our hearts. Here we go.

The Last Rites

I wasn’t raised Episcopal because when Mom and Dad joined the Episcopal church, I was grown and gone from home. Therefore, when it was time for the last rites to be administered to Mom, I was unfamiliar with what that meant exactly. Fortunately, Dena was one of Mom’s favorite people, in addition to being her priest. As such, she is well versed in helping those of us who do not know the sacrament to understand and feel comfortable participating in it. 

We gathered around Mom’s bed. Dena spoke to Mom and explained that we were going to pray for her to get her ready for her journey. Mom responded when she heard her friend’s voice. She opened the left eye that still opens and gave a smile. Dena reminded Mom of their times together and described the quilted stole she was wearing, in detail, from one of Mom’s favorite retreat centers. Mom did some mumbling as if she remembered, which should not be possible. Still, in the moment I am convinced she was aware of what was happening as she was anointed with oil and we began to pray over her. In the presence of God, all things are possible.

I don’t know how to describe it except to say she seemed to open herself to receive the prayers. Not in a physical way, but I could feel her heart reaching out to embrace our prayers. She was peaceful. Joyful even. Her eyes closed in prayer, she had an angelic look on her face and she soaked in every word. As we proceeded through the ritual, the waterworks flowed from all of us. The service included a space for us to tell Mom what she meant to us and we each took our turn. Squeaky voices, tight throats, and sniffles. Trying to speak through our crying was difficult, but the Holy Spirit was present and gave us the grace to say what needed to be said.

I could feel we were standing on holy ground. There was a healing balm released through our tears. We gave her permission to go and told her we would take care of each other. In every way, I felt she knew what we were saying and why we were saying it. I could feel her soaking in our expressions of love, in the words of scripture, and the prayers prayed over her. My own heart also received the balm of healing. The journey has been long and arduous…even traumatic in some ways. Yet, this time together began to fill some of the cracks of my broken heart. To feel we have walked her to this door to the best of our ability and it is now between she and God as to when she steps through it.

 The Vigil

A vigil is defined as a period of keeping awake during the time usually spent asleep, especially to keep watch or pray. We have arrived at the vigil portion of this journey. I sit in her chair and listen to her uneven breathing. I hear gurgling, between her snores. Her eyes will not likely open again, which is why mine must stay so. I am watching. Bearing witness to her last hours. I feel the holy presence in the room as I read prayers and scriptures over her still body. Only the chest moving up and down now. This woman from whom I came, this strong woman who loved me fiercely, this woman who embraced myself and others, always.

The collage of pictures of her on the wall are smiling. The sparkle is in her eyes in every one of them. She and Dad in all kinds of places, from the dating days to just a few years ago. Her life in a visual timeline. It is as if she is reminding me of herself in more joyful days, begging me to think of her whole and not as she is now. In hours, she will be whole again. More whole than she has ever been here on this earth. Until then, I keep vigil.

The Threshold

In August of 2020, Mom moved to memory care. Walking her to the door was the hardest thing we had ever done. Because of the pandemic, we couldn’t cross the threshold. We couldn’t go with her. We had to wave goodbye as a nurse pushed her wheelchair away from us and the door closed. We had to trust caregivers we’d never met to handle the transition, knowing Mom was confused and would not understand what was happening.

Today, we walked her to the next threshold. Another door we cannot enter. We said our goodbyes and she left us. Permanently this time. Of course, this time, we already know the caregiver, as He has been with her always. We trust Him implicitly. We also know she is no longer confused. She is clear minded. She is whole. She is free of the body which limited her spirit. She is walking and talking. She is face to face with Love himself. She has crossed the threshold and we are celebrating with her even as we grieve our loss.  

The Celebration

Day 1 without Mom is different than I expected. I slept harder and deeper than I have in a very long time. I awoke refreshed, not exhausted. I had no trouble getting out of bed. The burden we have carried for years is gone. I feel lighter and dare I say, happier than I have in a while.

It’s not that I am not sad, there is for sure a hole in my heart. A Mom-sized hole. I miss her physical presence already. But even as I feel the emptiness of that space and the ache of it, I picture her looking out of the heart-hole at me…because she remembers me, now. She sees me. And when I see something that reminds me of her, she remembers it, too. So, we are together in spirit…in our memories. I am so very grateful for the fact that her memory is restored it makes me cry, not in sorrow, but in joy. She knows me again. I can feel it. That is where my tears start flowing.

When we did last rites this past week, I asked her to send us ways to see her so we would know it was her. Flowers, birds, songs, scripture, etc… We have already had a beautiful rainbow, a scripture, and a stuffed dog sent our way. Even though we can’t hear her voice, she is speaking again. Her communication has been restored. The shell she was living in is gone and her spirit is free to be herself again. I cannot describe the joy that fills my heart, only my tears can express it. Not what I expected…this joy. I know grief has many different faces, but joy wasn’t one I have experienced before.

I cannot wait for her Celebration of Life service, because she will be there among us, knowing us, celebrating all the memories with us. All the arrangements are being made. So many details. Mom would’ve been all over this party we are planning to celebrate her life. We are trying to do her proud by making it meaningful, not overly sad, respectful, with a sprinkle of fun. We have chosen a lovely space, one of her favorites because of its history and its undeniable beauty. The service will be at Grace Calvary Episcopal Church in Clarkesville Ga. on July 26^th. Visitation with refreshments will start at 11:00 and the Celebration of Life service will be at 12:00. We would love to see you all there to remember Mom.