Beloved Mother 1951 – 2021
A couple Fridays ago my older sister, Ana, who has been my mother’s primary caretaker for several years now called me very distressed. She explained that our mother, who had COPD, was starting to lose control of her body. As a result, she was in and out of the hospital and rehab for two weeks or so. Finding all of this alarming, but not immediately urgent, all of mom’s children made plans to come down to see her for Christmas. However, not long after we all made plans did mom’s health seriously start to decline. She was in and out of consciousness. She was weak to the point of immobility. She was breathing heavy and strangely. She was not able to speak clearly or succinctly. After learning all of this, my younger sister, Adrienne, and I made arrangements to head to Florida right away. Adrienne booked the next flight out of New Jersey. I hastily dropped my beautiful kids off at my mother-in-law’s house and started driving to FL with my wife.
During my drive, my older sister FaceTimed us so we could see my mother. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but when that picture you are looking at happens to be someone you love more than your own life in an alarming condition that you have never seen before, I tell you, THAT picture is disturbingly and harshly life-altering. Upon seeing my mother, in such a miserable state, I immediately started to ugly cry and proceeded to tell her all about her four grandkids that my wife and I begot.
I told her about Riley and how talented he is playing baseball. I told her how crazy intuitive he is, and how alarmingly perceptive and intelligent he is for such a young soul. I told her how school bores him into misbehaving because he claims to never be learning anything new or challenging.
I told her how Madison is so very beautiful and how hard she works playing softball. We explained that she likes to lead and speak her mind, but that her approach needs some work so that she is not so bossy.
I told her how KenleyAnn is also stunningly beautiful and how she is our miracle baby. When she was born, she aspirated and was taken to the NICU. While in the NICU, the Lord promised that she will be healed and, so too, every baby in the NICU that night.
I told her about Skylar, our fourth and final child, and how she has beautiful tight blonde curls and blue eyes. How she has more sass and personality than all of our girls combined.
When I finished talking about our kiddos, I reassured her that Cassie and I were on our way to her and that we will be be there soon!
13 driving hours later! We arrived! I am not sure if I even had the car in park or turned off before I was barging into my sister’s house to find my mother. We arrived to find her in her room. She was tethered, as she had been for some years now, to an oxygen machine via a forty foot nasal cannula. She was awake and alert, but had limited mobility.
For several days, we spent time with my mother, sisters, and nephews/niece. Each day, my mother grew weaker and slowly started to lose more and more capabilities. When we first arrived, she could speak. Slowly, she lost her ability to speak and could only mutter noises. She had some movement in her right arm and leg, but then that started to deteriorate to the point where she did not move at all. She started with fairly normal breathing. Then it became very labored, not gasping, but forceful and deliberate. Soon her breathing seemed more like an automated response of the body and brain as opposed to natural. Eventually her breathing was so sparingly small that you knew any one could be her last breathe. Until it was her last.
It seems we are born with an innate gauge for when our closest relations are gearing up for their journey home. I knew my mother was leaving this Earth three days before she finally did. I spent as much time as I could with her once that internal gauge clicked on by sitting by her, talking with her, and praying for her. In fact, my wife, sisters, and I all gathered around her when we all felt confident the time was near.
My younger sister was hysterical, weeping and begging that she not leave. My older sister was mourning. I was uncomfortable seeing my mother suffering. Often I would kiss her forehead, run my hands through her hair, and whisper to her that we will be okay. It’s okay if you want to go home. We love you, and we all know you love us. Although all of our gauges went off, our mother did not pass away in that moment.
That evening, when we all thought this is it, we prayed the Rosary all together for our mother, holding her hand, thankful for more time.
Having left all four of our kiddos in Arkansas with my mother-In-law, my wife and I encountered a problem that would force us to head back home before my mother passed away. In varying degrees and on different days all four of our kids got sick, forcing them to miss school. My mother-in-law had to take some to school while others stayed home to rest and be cared for. We felt like a heavy burden was placed on her; thus we made the extremely difficult decision to head home the day before my mother passed away.
Knowing, but hoping otherwise, that this would be the last time I saw my mother, I sat by her, held her hand, spoke to her about some regrets that I carried in my heart, asked for forgiveness, made amends, whispered that I love her, reminded her that we will be okay, reassured her that it was okay for her to go home, touted about how amazing her grandchildren are, and begged that her last thought be, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”
Fighting back tears, I kissed my mother on her lips, rubbed her beautiful face gently, blessed her forehead, hands, feet, and chest with the sign of the cross, and ran my hands through her hair. I bent low to whisper in her ear that she was the best mother, that I will do good with this life she gave me, that I loved her with my whole heart, and that I would see her later, knowing in my heart that I meant in Heaven. At that, I slowly walked to the front door of my sister’s house, each step felt like a millstone was tied to my legs. I took one last glance back at my mother laying in a hospital-type bed in my sister’s living room. I blessed her one last time and then uttered good-bye under my shaky breathe.
With a very heavy heart, I put our car in drive and slowly pulled away, leaving to alleviate an overburdened mother-in-law.
Two hours before we were back home in Arkansas, my younger sister called me on FaceTime and was hysterical saying that the time was near. She pointed the camera at my mother and set it down for me to see her. My mother’s jaw was dropped open. Her eyes were glazed over. Her skin was pale and white. Her breathing was so sparse. I watched as she took her last breathe. The image of her lifeless face has been forever burned into my memory. I could hear my sisters weeping and wailing. My mother was gone. She had departed with one last, tiny, insignificant breathe. Taking my right hand to my heart, I prayed, “Father, into your hands I commend my mother’s spirit.”
An hour or so before my sister called I had a vision in my minds eye of my mother. She was in a crowd. She was not in pain. She was looking at me, as if she were looking back at me. Her face was not the morbid face I witnessed at her death. Instead, her face was much younger, closer to the face I knew and loved when I was a small child. I knew in my soul that my mother was in Heaven. She was standing in a crowd of other people who were also in Heaven. Only she was looking back at me. The crowd stood before the Throne of God. This, too, has been burned into my memory.
I should add that being a man of Faith, I greatly concern myself with where people that I love dearly will spend eternity. For example, when my father-in-law died, and not knowing if he were ever baptized. I baptized him at his request days before he passed. So too, was I greatly concerned about the state of my mother’s soul. As such, I made contact with a local priest and arranged Last Rites for my mother during my drive to Florida to see her. This alleviated much of my concern and worry about my mother, especially knowing that I would see her again in Heaven.
I should also mention that prior to my leaving for Florida, the Lord told me that a miracle would occur in 5 days. He spoke this to me on Friday before we started driving that night to see my mother. In truth, I had several speculations for what that miracle might be at that time – a cure for my mother, something to do with my kids, something to do with me. When the fifth day came and went which was Wednesday – two days before my mother’s passing – I was perplexed that nothing seemed to have happened. It was the next morning when I realized what the miracle was…
My father walked through the front door Wednesday evening. He came to pay his respects to his ex-wife and to be with his children who were not well. I simply cannot clearly remember the last time that my mother, my father, my two sisters, and I were in the same room. For a very brief amount of time, we were all together again.
I distinctly remember the day when my father was kicked out of our lives and my parents officially separated; I was a small child. I have never forgotten that day. My small child mind knew that something significant happened and that it was tremendously sad. Now, juxtapose that day to this day here in Florida with our mother on her death bed where my father returns. We are all one family again. I think that was the miracle promised on the fifth day. This day, too, I shall never forget.
Thanks for reading. Be praying for my family, please.
Mom, you were a big fan of my writing my whole life. I shall miss you critiquing my work. I love you, mommy.
Seeking Him 