DISCLAIMER:  This post is not my usual lighthearted one.  It deals with a deep subject and I caution the reader to tread softly.

The comment from “A Momma Hug”  has prompted me to write this post.   Rose Marie said that she is sure that her Mother will be one of the first people that she sees when she gets to heaven and I would like to expand on that comment.  It is not a short story, but a good one.

I had the privilege of being asked to visit my girlfriend’s dying husband while she had to be away for a few weeks.    For over a year, she and her daughter had planned their first long trip together.  It was completely paid for, vacation time had been requested a year earlier and they were to leave in 2 weeks.   Not in good health anyway, he was 79 years old and had just been diagnosed with non-operable lung cancer.   What do they do?  He said that this trip was important to the two of them and that he would be fine in the nursing home under hospice care and that she and her daughter should go on their long awaited trip.

  I was asked to stop in “about once a week”.  I assured my dear friend that I would do better than that, that I would try to go daily when I was in town.   If you have ever had anyone in a nursing home, you know the rigors of going there to check on them.  It does become exhausting and I actually had to drive to a nearby state to check in on him.  But I didn’t mind because I regarded both of them highly and they would have done as much for me.  So, I went daily, and even twice some days because I wanted to be sure that he was getting his pain meds on time.  He was very sick, under hospice care . 

  I found out later, that they had actually “said their goodbye’s” before she left for the trip.  Neither one of them expected to ever see the other again in this world.  He became worse during the time she was gone and then one day just 2 days before her return, he gained strength.  I said that she would be home “tomorrow”.  He said, “She’ll be home already? … tomorrow?”   I told him yes.  He gained strength and somehow he was still here when she returned back from the trip to a far away continent.

I continued to visit him –only now it was them, because she was always there with him– at the nursing home over the next few days.  Then one day, I arrived about 30 minutes before she did and this is where the story becomes relevant to Rose Marie’s comment about her seeing her own Mother. 

I had been there for about 10 minutes, waiting quietly by his bedside.  He was in a sort of sleep-fog and not really coherent.   I had not heard him speak clearly for many days.  Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked through me – past me – looking intently at something or someone up to his left toward the ceiling. Then he said one word very clearly, very loudly, no mistaking it.   It was the single syllable we all cry out one time or another — MOM!  I thought that he might be calling for his wife, but then he became quiet and fell asleep.  I have heard some couples call each other Mom or Dad in front of the children and it just became a habit for them as old married couples.  But I had never heard him call her any of those names.  I waited and soon she arrived.  I asked her if he had ever called her Mom, or Mother, or anything like that.  She replied sort of quizzically “No”,  and I quickly explained the reason for the question.  We just left it at that and never mentioned it again that I recall.  He passed away, I think it was the next morning.

 Here is another part of this story:  My Mother had Alzheimer’s, but that is not the reason for her death.  As her memories would start to slip away, she would call ME Mom;  and we would joke that now I was the Mom and she was the child.  It was her way of acknowledging that she now depended on me to take care of her and her basic needs.  Our roles were reversed.

 Fast forward several years.   My home in Kansas City.   My children & I have turned the family room into their beloved Grandmother’s hospice room.   This is the room in which she will die.  She stopped eating a week ago.  She has been in and out of consciousness for several days.  She couldn’t talk to me two days ago.  Yesterday she could sort of smile at a voice she heard on the phone (or so we told ourselves and the person on the phone).  Today, she is slipping away from us fast.  I take my regular seat on the hassock next to the right side of her bed;  the hassock is small and I can scoot it very close to her hospital bed without disturbing her.  It allows me to sit for hours holding both of her hands, comforting us both.   Then suddenly, she opens her eyes, looks intently up toward the ceiling to her left (remember I am on her right) and calls out loudly and clearly “Mom!?”  With the feeling of “Is that you?” all in that one word.

 Instinctively, I know that she has not called me.  But I answer anyway, “I’m right here.  It’s alright.  I love you.”  Wanting and hoping, hope beyond hope that she has called for me one last time before she goes, but in my heart of hearts, I know differently.   When the loving hospice nurse arrives later that day, I relay the event to her.  She is not surprised at all.  In fact, they had a devotional that morning on “Mom is the last word spoken”.   It all becomes so clear to me now.  I have witnessed this amazing phenomenon twice and it makes perfect sense to me.  The nurse says that they think that those we love who have passed before us, come to us to help make the transition easier.  A mother being the primary and initial love of most people; it certainly makes sense to me.

“Mom” was the last word that my Mother spoke.

And so, my dear friend Rose Marie, I know without a doubt that you will see your beloved Mother again.  You may even see her while still slightly tethered to this world.  She has gone there to prepare the path for you as only a Mother could…. “Mom?!”