My Mother

My mother is dying. It's hard even typing those words, what less comprehend them. She lives in a different state and I just got back from my 5th or 6th trip there in the past couple of months. Every time I leave her, my heart breaks. Is this the last time I will feel her touch? Is this the last time I will see her face gently smiling at me? I tell her again and again how much I love her. When I get home I write her again and again how much I love her. I know she knows but I just feel a need to tell her how much she means to me...how grateful I am to have a mom like her.

The endless hours sitting by her side is worth it to see her wake up for a few minutes - to see her eyes, maybe to see a quick smile in recognizing me and occasionally a few sweet words. I stay at a loss how to make this better for her. I hold her hand. I smile. I share little things with her. I pray. Nothing seems enough. I want to keep letting her know all that she has meant to me.

She is my teacher...teaching me to sew, cook, encourage a friend, write a comforting note. She also taught by example - doing for others, lending a hand to help, studying the Bible. The only thing she didn't teach me is how to let her go.

She is my mentor...I still remember sitting on her lap pouring out my heart to her when my little playmate hurt my feelings. I talked to her about all transitions in my life from pregnancy to hot flashes; she would is there for me. As I looked at her sleeping, rarely awake, there was a part of me that wanted to "go tell mom about this experience"...it seems so surreal.

She is my wind beneathe my wing. Ok, I know. An old cliche but it fits so well. Mom was cheering me on in my first stage performance at 6 years old. She thought I was the best one with the line "I lost my shoe"! Many stages performances followed that she endured...singing, violin concerts, plays. In later years when I began to teach Ladies' Retreats, she was in my audience for two of them. Nothing made me happier than to see her face in the audience each time. We would lock eyes and the warmth would cover me and pushed me on. Now I wonder if she thinks I'm doing my best in her last days. I question if I have done enough or if there is something else I can do. I just want once again her approval for what I've done.

On the other hand, she has asked for so little in life. She never wanted the spotlight. My mom
was from simple roots - a country girl from the Ozarks - and although lived in cities and travel the world over, she just loved the simple things... a bird on the windowsill, fresh tomatoes, a book, a chat around the dinnertable. My daughter said if Nini was in good health she would probably be happy with a little bed, chair and a table - simple things. I was surprised that Emily picked up how mom was content with so little. Her main wishes was for her family - that they would be happy and good Christians.

The only thing my mom ever really wanted in recent years was to stay in Oklahoma, which she has, and to see Dad again and be with Jesus. Soon she will get that wish, too. My head can accept that - she's not having a good quality of life now. She's tired. She hurts. But my heart will never want her to go, not even for a minute. Still I wait with her and continue to trust God, as she would want me to do.

Mother's Day, 1993