LAUGHED OFTEN, LOVED MUCH

Mother & Daughter Bond

This picture of my mom and I holding hands is my favorite. I have many pictures of the two of us but this one picture captures our relationship like no other. This is a picture of two women with an unbreakable bond. This is a picture of peace, safety, comfort, and love, a love that has been formed and tested with time. This is the image of a mother's love and a daughter's effort to hold on to that love as long as she can. When I'm alone and need comfort, I turn to this picture and it reminds me of our "conversations" in the last days of her life.

Mom's dementia had worsened but she still knew who I was, or at least knew that I was family of some sort. As her condition worsened, she didn't recognize me at all. It was heartbreaking to look into those eyes and see her searching her memory to determine who I was. Those blue eyes that had seen so much,  looked at me with love for so long, had no idea who I was. They tell you that people gain clarity as they are dying and fortunately that's what happened, unfortunately, by that time she couldn't open her eyes or speak. Her hands. She spoke to me with her hands. I would talk to her and she would squeeze my hand, or raise her eyebrows or even try to smile. Saturday and Sunday, that's how we "talked." My mom has given me numerous gifts over the last 55 years but knowing me again, and squeezing my hand tight to talk to me, that's a gift I will treasure the remainder of my life. So, when I look at that picture of us holding hands, I remember that weekend and I feel better.

Saturday and Sunday were great days, but Monday and Tuesday were not. My mom always had a stubborn streak and never was it more apparent than in those last 2 days! Her spirit didn't want to give up but finally, her heart gave out. At 6:40 on March 7th, she took her last breath. I was at her bedside, and Paul walked in just in time to see her take that last breath. I wrote about that last breath in January.

That last breath will be a moment of pure joy for her and utter despair for me. Even if I'm in a room surrounded by family and friends for that instant I will feel total isolation as the person that brought me into this world leaves it. Try as I might, I can't prepare myself for it. I'm sorting through photos, making funeral plans, selecting songs, reading scriptures, and sitting by her bedside. Sitting there, holding her, and watching her breathe, because soon, that last breath is going to happen, and unlike the gasping first breath of an infant, this one will be quiet. Instead of emerging into a loud, bright, scary place she will go back home where it's safe, and she's well, and with my dad.

That last breath was quiet, her breathing had been labored for two days, but the last breath was soft and easy. She left this world quietly, but while on this earth, she laughed often and loved much. As I anticipated, I wasn't prepared. The funeral, the songs, the scriptures, all were beautiful and I know she would be so happy with the service. It helps to know she's with Dad but it hurts so much to be without her. Even when she didn't know me, I knew she was there, I could still go to her, see her, and hold her hand. Now, I have that picture, a lifetime of memories of an amazing life, well lived, and of a mom that made sure I always knew how much she loved me.

LAUGHED OFTEN, LOVED MUCH

That's the epitaph we chose for her marker. It suits her well. 

Goodbye Momma, I will love and miss you for the rest of my life.