Major Life Shift

Mom, in the mid-1960s

I'm still trying to work through the reality of my mother's death. I watched her take her last breath when her life and spirit left her body. Her face relaxed; I could see no wrinkles; her skin looked so young. We agonized at the thought of losing her, but at the same time we were so thankful she wasn't suffering anymore.

I remember Mom telling me that since her mother had moved in with them during her last years, it was harder when she lost her because she'd gotten so used to being with her all the time again. I understand that completely now. This house I love so much seems like such an empty shell without her. But I know things will get better in time. People all around me have survived losing their mother, and I will, too.

My sister and I cleaned out Momma' closet on Sunday. I'd been dreading that, but it helped to not have to do it alone. I shed more tears as I remembered her wearing certain favorite items of clothing. But it also made me think about clothes hangers. Mom and I had different opinions about clothes hangers after we moved in together. I thought I was helping my parents out by gradually getting rid of the old wire hangers and replacing them with the plastic ones when she stopped me one day. She told me she preferred the wire hangers over the plastic ones because she could get more clothes in the closet with the wire ones. That surprised me at the time, and it makes me smile as I write this. I thought I knew just about everything about Momma, but I didn't know that one.

Then yesterday I hugged and bawled on every stack of her clothes I took to the minivan, and then over to a local clothes closet ministry. I know moments like that will continue to come, sometimes when I least expect it, but I don't block the grief. I know that's part of the healing process. And it is a cathartic experience for me to write things down through blogs, journals, and even emails and letters to friends and family.

Mom was in relatively good health all of her life until a low heart rate meant having a pacemaker wired to her heart about twelve years ago. She told the grandkids the doctor installed a Sears Die Hard battery in her. Some years after that before ALS came calling, Momma told me that if something were to ever happen to her, and I think she figured it would be heart-related, that she wanted us to know she'd had a good and happy life, and that she had no regrets. She told me that what she was most proud of was her family, and she loved being a mother to us kids and a wife to Daddy.

Since Mom lost her ability to speak verbally, she had to write to communicate. Coming across even the smallest scraps of paper with her handwriting on it moves me to tears. I found a note written to a co-worker at the hospital where she volunteered long after her ALS diagnosis that said, "I'm going to have to quit working soon; it tires me out too much." I found other ones reminding Dad to "Trim the crepe myrtles next" and "Read the to-do list by the back door." Or asking how someone was doing or telling us what clothes she wanted to wear to the doctor appointment or telling Dad where something was or saying "That baby has been such a blessing to us" or "I'm glad you came-- I always enjoy visiting even though I don't talk" or "You take care" or "I think he needs the hair cut around his butt" (referring to our dog) or "Tell the girls hello-- I miss them" (to Donna, the beautician who came to our house every Friday after Mom couldn't visit the beauty shop) or "You stay out of trouble, but have fun" or "Yogurt"(when asked what she'd like to eat) or "You ought to plant green beans, okra & squash today,"or "Go close the desk," or dozens of other notes written over a two and a half year period. Most of them she threw away over time, but I treasure every one of them I find now.

Mom's mind was fully functioning up until two days before her death, but I think some people assumed the opposite since she couldn't speak and her body gradually quit working. We didn't talk at all about what would happen after she was gone-- it hurt too much, but looking back, she was gradually preparing us. Toward the end of last year, Mom started showing Dad how to do all the financial stuff-- things she had always done for them. Dad and I had to write everything down to remember it and post signs on the kitchen door, but Mom always remembered appointments, birthdays, and her complicated medicine schedule. We've found notes with all the insurance and banking information, and even her wishes for her celebration service.

I really thought we had another year with her, but part of me is grateful that she never lost the ability to communicate with us, which so many ALS patients go through when everything is paralyzed except the blinking of the eyes. I don't want to forget anything, but I know time will fade the memories, so I'm determined to write down as many of them as possible.

I know death is a part of life. I know we're all going to experience it through the death of our loved ones as well as our own. I know my Mother is with the Lord, and I know some agnostic friends and family can't wrap their logic around that. I don't know how they deal with their belief that this brief life is all there is, and then we turn into dust. Maybe they just stay busy enough to not have to think about it. Without Christ, life has little meaning for me, and losing my mother or any of my friends and loved ones would be absolutely unbearable with the thought that I would never see them again. Everyone will experience eternal life, but when it comes to being with the Lord, there's a caveat, and that requires a relationship with Christ.

If it were up to me, I'd probably set  up the scales of good outweighing the bad to get you into heaven, thinking that would force people to live a decent life here on earth. And most people with little knowledge of God's grace through Christ actually think that's what determines if they're going to be in heaven after death. But God didn't set it up that way, and since He's God and Creator, I believe He can design this plan called life and beyond however He sees fit. How arrogant of us pots telling the Potter how things ought to be. We can blame God for the tragedies in our lives, or we can face them with His grace and strength. No one is immune to hardships in life. We can let them destroy us, or we can learn from them and let them make us stronger.

And when it comes to putting my faith in something that will determine my eternal destination, my choices are:

1. no belief and turn to dust; [grab all the gusto in life because this is all there is]
2. no belief and hope for the best in the afterlife; [stay busy enough to avoid thinking or doing anything about it]
3. a limited belief and try to be good enough to earn one's way to heaven [tip God occasionally or do a lot of feel-good works, which negates Christ's sacrifice for us], or
4. faith in God through His Son Jesus. [It gives life meaning & makes beautiful sense when you take the time to look into it; start with the Book of John in the New Testament]

I'm going with number 4. This faith is based on an unfathomable love for us, not hate; on a free will choice, not death threats or shame or coercion; on a relationship, not a religion.

Looking back, I see where God began preparing us for this journey with Mom, and I have to say these past four and a half years have been good ones, in spite of the illness. And God was the biggest reason for that. Life has shifted in a major way for us, and we'll miss her for the rest of this brief life, but we are okay.

O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory? I Corinthians 15:55