Looking upon her face, lying there, awaiting her destiny that swept her up into eternity,
We saw there a glimpse of that blessed, peaceful state in eyes that swallowed you into their calmness, their beckoning like pools of liquid love that embraced you in acceptance.
Days earlier mother’s fretting stopped replaced by this placid paradise of serenity.
Who can explain it?
Only the ones who looked and loved their mother
Days of embracing her, washing her, caressing her, now, open, accepting arms - like a new born child unable to speak but watching you closely, the one you love.
Sitting beside her, her every word held in your heart, the blessing finally comes.
You hold her hand; you touch her, want to be beside her, to lie there with her as she sleeps - your mother
Only the years will erase the pain but never this memory of God’s gift:
Her love finally given without cost, awaiting you each time you arrive to possess the loveliness of love.
You and your sister hold her to you, from one to the other as you bathe her and wash her back and clean her bottom - something you have never seen - once so private now so open to all of love - your mother
The nephew comes amidst cries and sighs.
He watches the scene, his aunts and mother, their tears wash into his own soul and he merges as one with them observing her, - his granny.
A gift she gives to this one grandson, one last time, a gesture from her heart.
And she lies there, having touched him so, and the daughters, three, - this, their mother.
And in those early hours of the final day she crosses herself over and over praying for IT to come and the chorus of her family, like angels, repeat over and over their Pater Nosters and their Hail Marys, helping their mother go to the next level where her faith has led her - home.
And the youngest, sitting there, observes her mother’s breathing slow, become heavier and heavier, and now this child weeps and cries as she watches and says her last “goodbyes”, and her sibling enters, shocked, uttering, “she’s dead” - their mother.
Crying begins, horrific howls, and beckonings, to return, one sobbing upon the other, one wrestling with love as well as un-love
And angry words of grief rebel are silenced by love’s tether.
The sister on the phone joins the mournful lament as she listens to their distant wails.
Though she is gone and taken from them she lives on in their memories of her eyes: blue pools of love, as one saw them - their mother.
And upon her bed, as the sisters’ watch, one last gift is given them - the worry wrinkles leave her face, and low and behold, a shining angel alights on her, her hair shines, too, with a youthful dew captured by these moments when all the past is left behind and eternal peace finally falls upon - their mother..
Now she’s gone but not forgotten for those memories live on within in their heart and each holds dear
a special moment with her- their mother.
Where bitterness once brewed within their bosom now resides only these memories of a radiant face that looked upon each one, arms that beckoned, and love that lingered but now reclines in a heavenly place but still they remember, will always remember that time – their mother’s last days.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Flashbacks toTheir Mother's Last Days
Life has a funny way of distracting us from our preoccupations. It had been nothing out of the ordinary that day that changed Mary’s train of thought from focusing on the purchase of her first vehicleback in 1988. It was something quite common actually. That day had been a long day filled with driving Robin back and forth to work, going to a prayer meeting in the morning, and seeing clients in the afternoon. Mary finally felt the weight of her weariness as she sat down that evening to watch a popular series on TV. Engrossed in the storyline a flashback to Mary’s own past came by way of one dying man asking another man to pray the “Hail Mary” with him. Tears came to Mary’s eyes as she recalled her own mothers last waking moments before she went into that unconsciousness state that preceded death.
It was a beautiful experience which Mary had written about in a poem after her mom’s demise. Mary’s mother had fallen and broken her hip December first, 2000. After a surgery and the short lived hopeful beginnings of recovery her mother had taken a turn for the worst. It was December 30th, early in the morning, with her family surrounding her that Mary Helen asked her children to pray with her. Mary stood between her siblings holding hands, praying, and crying as her mother went into a litany of the rosary with her family. Suddenly their mother was no longer present with them, had stopped praying, and in a few short hours would be gone from them forever. She was departed but had not been forgotten for here resided Mary reliving those precious last hours. She recalled sitting there waiting, feeling honoured when her mother’s last breaths came, and Mary caught a glimpse of eternity in her mother’s face.
It had been amazing to watch and see all the pain and wrinkles disappear from her skin. At 86, her mother’s face had been very wrinkled but in death it had shone like the complexion of an 18 year old and her hair which had not been washed for a few days now took on a lustre and glow that highlighted her countenance like a halo. Mary had felt like she had, just for a moment, stepped into eternity with her mother. It was the most awesome experience interrupted only by the presence of her sister, Martha, who had come back into the room after a brief reprieve. Martha had stared down at her sister and her mother watching the scene of silence. Mary had only looked up and heard her sister say,” She’s dead.”
Within minutes doctors and nurses came to fill the room and announce what the two sisters already knew. Then Mary’s brother, Joe, and his wife Bernadette who had carried the burden of staying with Mary at the hospital the last month came forth and joined in the tears that had begun to flow.
The whole drama became eerily nightmarish when the nurses came to clean the body of their mother. But the howls which were aroused from deep within Mary came at the sight of the tag they put on her mother’s toe. It was an uncontrollable grief which started and seemed to have no end.
Bernadette had gone to see if she could get some medicine to help and a nurse returned with a wheelchair to take Mary away. She felt betrayed and looked angrily at her sister-in-law who apologized profusely realizing the error the nurse had made. After what seemed hours Mary had quieted down. It was dark outside now, and Mary and her family sat in an empty room. Her mother’s body was no longer there. She was gone. Yet the memories of those days were neatly bundled within her heart and in the poem that came forth inspired by the witness of God’s love in her mother’s last days.
It was a beautiful experience which Mary had written about in a poem after her mom’s demise. Mary’s mother had fallen and broken her hip December first, 2000. After a surgery and the short lived hopeful beginnings of recovery her mother had taken a turn for the worst. It was December 30th, early in the morning, with her family surrounding her that Mary Helen asked her children to pray with her. Mary stood between her siblings holding hands, praying, and crying as her mother went into a litany of the rosary with her family. Suddenly their mother was no longer present with them, had stopped praying, and in a few short hours would be gone from them forever. She was departed but had not been forgotten for here resided Mary reliving those precious last hours. She recalled sitting there waiting, feeling honoured when her mother’s last breaths came, and Mary caught a glimpse of eternity in her mother’s face.
It had been amazing to watch and see all the pain and wrinkles disappear from her skin. At 86, her mother’s face had been very wrinkled but in death it had shone like the complexion of an 18 year old and her hair which had not been washed for a few days now took on a lustre and glow that highlighted her countenance like a halo. Mary had felt like she had, just for a moment, stepped into eternity with her mother. It was the most awesome experience interrupted only by the presence of her sister, Martha, who had come back into the room after a brief reprieve. Martha had stared down at her sister and her mother watching the scene of silence. Mary had only looked up and heard her sister say,” She’s dead.”
Within minutes doctors and nurses came to fill the room and announce what the two sisters already knew. Then Mary’s brother, Joe, and his wife Bernadette who had carried the burden of staying with Mary at the hospital the last month came forth and joined in the tears that had begun to flow.
The whole drama became eerily nightmarish when the nurses came to clean the body of their mother. But the howls which were aroused from deep within Mary came at the sight of the tag they put on her mother’s toe. It was an uncontrollable grief which started and seemed to have no end.
Bernadette had gone to see if she could get some medicine to help and a nurse returned with a wheelchair to take Mary away. She felt betrayed and looked angrily at her sister-in-law who apologized profusely realizing the error the nurse had made. After what seemed hours Mary had quieted down. It was dark outside now, and Mary and her family sat in an empty room. Her mother’s body was no longer there. She was gone. Yet the memories of those days were neatly bundled within her heart and in the poem that came forth inspired by the witness of God’s love in her mother’s last days.
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