One year ago today, my mother died. I have used this space for the past week to record some of the writings, or scribblings, in my journal of a year ago.
...and I write these words "warm temperatures predicted" because yesterday was downright cool- cloudy too. The dismal edge hung inside my soul too. An up and down day. Sat with Mother most of the day yesterday. I can't imagine four weeks like this!
Spoke to Gail on the phone. She has no idea how all this affects me. Isn't that a good thing, after all?
I have lost so much energy...in times past some of my anxiousness was used up by doing...doing...doing. Now because I am lacking in energy, my anxiety levels seem askew.
If my Mother had her "brain intact" we could talk. She could say the things she would want to say and she could understand the things we say (or what we want to say) to her. That is the part I am grieving now I realize. It's so different than when a person is dying with their brain intact.
The entry above was written early morning, before everyone had stirred. My time alone, to recap the day before...
She died within two minutes of me walking into the bedroom, where an aide was standing beside her bedside. Her breathing was short, gasping- we checked her feet, they were cold/mottled.She was totally unresponsive- one short gasp- nothing. Thirty seconds later, another sort gasp- nothing, very faint heart beat- a yawn of sorts- then, she left us for good this time.
There will be a day
with no more tears
no more pain
and no more fears.
There will be a day
when the burden of this place
will be no more
We will see Jesus face to face.
Some might say she "waited" until I got home. I want to believe He allowed that because He knew I would want that, and yes, even needed it. I am thankful He was gracious to provide this for me, to return home and be with her as she breathed her last breaths.
She left this world to begin a new life of eternity on a beautiful day in April. She will be buried in the month of May, her body laid to rest beside Daddy, in Virginia.
Claire bought me a vase of roses in a gorgeous color of cream tipped with tinges of pink. I am wondering why do you always stick your nose next to the soft velvety petals of a rose and smell of its fragrance upon seeing one?