Mom, life & Heaven...

    It has been a long time since I wrote from my heart...there is a lot of sadness, pain, and things that I just don't understand in this life. I still miss my mom, sometimes as much as when she first went home to heaven and sometimes I go days or weeks between really thinking about her at all. Have you ever lost someone so close to you? Do you understand that it's not just the person, but the life you had before they died that you also miss?
     We had many months and, even years, to prepare for Mom dying. She was sick for 4 1/2 years with her brain cancer (once it began showing new growth) and then her breast cancer. We spent  hours, and perhaps days, wondering if today, this moment, was her last moments. She went from unable to talk and semi-conscious, at times, to being alert and even able to talk some.
     Our kids were used to sitting at Grandma's side and knowing she may be leaving to heaven soon. We were used to spending many evenings singing as a family. We were used to praying fervently for Grandpa, Grandma, Marissa, and Marita. We were used to the uncertainty of the next phone call. Would this be the call that would change our world forever?
       But when the time came, it was more subtle than we expected. It came so quietly that we were left wondering if this was just another bad spell or the real thing? Personally, I had prayed for years that Mom wouldn't have to suffer too much. She did though. She suffered so much. And she "chose" to suffer even more by doing radiation and chemo both with uncertain results (and at least one had very uncomfortable side effects). All for us. Especially for Dad, Marissa, and Marita. She lived the meaning of love.
     I remember a phone call I had with Dad about 3 weeks before Mom died. I think it was a Saturday or Sunday morning. I may have called him to see how things were going, I don't remember. I do know that our conversation turned to Mom and he voiced how bad she was doing. She wouldn't/couldn't swallow her pills, eat, or drink hardly at all. He was worried, but he had just taken her in because of a second stroke about 1 month earlier and there was no new growth in her brain. So he was thinking that this is it. This is life. I need to "buck up" and deal with it. I told him that it was time to sit by her side and love her. I think I knew instinctively that she was nearing the end. But he was unable to believe this. I think it was a combination of not wanting to, and the fact that she had held on so long.
     I believe it was this same weekend (August 20th) that we visited there and Mom was so tired. She was in her wheelchair, but she was bent almost in half, her chin practically resting on her lap. Dad was a little upset because he couldn't get her to take her pills. I bent down to look into Mom's eyes and I asked, "Are you tired?" She  answered, "Yes," she was. Dad decided to put her in bed, but ran to the bathroom first. While she was sitting there waiting, a kitten came scampering through the kitchen, sliding on the linolium floor, and Mom chuckled. She was still in there, but just barely.
     It was this evening that Mom told my family "bye". We decided to head out the door as Dad was changing Mom behind the curtain. So I called through the curtain that we were leaving. Our youngest, Damara, was already sleeping in the rig. And just because it was easier, we had the rest of the kids in the rig too. Dad said to wait, that Mom wanted to say bye.
     So, reluctantly, we waited. I know it may sound bad, but the truth was that it was getting so hard to see Mom suffering that sometimes it was just easier to rush off and pretend all was well. So, that was my intent. To leave while they were busy and just shout bye on the way out, but God had other plans.
     Carson & I went in to say bye and Mom got upset. She started trying to say something, it came out kinda jumbled up and I wasn't sure what she wanted, but suddenly she motioned toward the door and I heard "Missy, Mindy!" Somehow I understood she wanted to say bye to my kids. So in they all came, Carson held Damara who still slept, and Mom hugged and kissed them all goodbye. I know I hugged her before we went and laid my head on her chest. I think I had tears in my eyes too, but it was so common to cry in my heart, even if it didn't show on my face, that I don't remember for sure.
      About a week later, we learned that Mom was indeed dying. The growth in her brain was to the point that all we could do was wait. She would likely be leaving us as soon as 2 weeks. It was Friday, August 24th, Mom & Dad's 34th wedding anniversary when Dad brought Mom into the ER. And Sunday the 26th when we later learned that she was really dying. It was surreal. I didn't cry, moan, or wail. I think I just said, "Oh," when I heard. I was so weary of seeing Mom suffer that it was kind of bittersweet news. I had peace.
     Then began the best two weeks of my life. Yes, you read that right. The very best. We were at the gates of heaven with her waiting for Jesus to come take her away from her pain and her suffering. We sang, we cried, we sat by her side. Finally we began to sleep the night there. All 50, or so, of us at times. We started taking turns sitting up at night so she would not be alone when she passed. And also so Dad could sleep in peace knowing we'd alert him right away if she was passing.
     God had it planned that she would breathe her last breaths on a hot Friday afternoon in September. I don't know for sure how Dad knew, but he called the boys (my brothers) in to gather around Mom. He said the time was close. Mom was quiet and peaceful. She was on hospice so she had morphine and other drugs to keep her comfortable. We sat by her side and soon it was apparent that this was really it. Mom was meeting Jesus at that very moment as we watched!
     I cried outloud for several (maybe many?) minutes before, during, and after her death. I thought, "Oh, Mom!" It was hard to finally say goodbye. My kids all heard the commotion. They said later that they thought we were laughing, but they soon realized it was crying they were hearing instead. They came in to say goodbye too. I don't really remember it all, but I do know that I was holding Damara's socks and crying into them. And amidst the sadness I remember my elation at Mom having won the victory. She now was safely on the other shore. For her, the fight was over. She had truly arrived. Words cannot tell you the absolute beauty in this thought for me. Mom was HOME!
(Mom's Heavenly birthday is coming around again....September 7th, it will be five years!)

     So much has changed since then. We attend a new church, (for reasons not our own), Dad found a new love of his life, I've given birth to two babies that Mom will never meet and lost 3 to miscarriage, Clarissa has lost a baby and been diagnosed with an incurable disease, Missy & Mikey have moved away, and my brothers seem to have dropped off the face of the earth.
     We do not sit at the feet of Jesus so often now. Death is a little further away from our day to day life... and we have lost something. We have lost our "vision". Our eyes begin to stray to things of this earth so much more. No one is sitting at death's door. ( I want to note here that Abigail Rose could very likely be, but she is not the Mom of this family, and does not affect all our lives like Mom did. I hope you understand, Clarissa). So we have an anchor in heaven, but we sometimes get weighed down with the burden's of this life and forget to look to our heavenly home and the time we will be going there too.
      I used to think about being on the other side of Mom passing, wondering if life would ever be "normal" again. It is normal, but it is not too. It will never be "normal" again. Mom will stay in heaven, my life will continue on, my kids will grow-up and move away, the world will keep moving toward that great day when Jesus comes to take us home, and in the midst of all this the world will continue to grow worse and worse as the Bible says. But we rush on, running the rat race, and hardly giving time to God. Do we learn of Him, as he has said? Do we hear his still small voice in the everyday hubbub?
     My heart cries to be freed from this crazy, busy life. Is it just me or is there others out there who wonder what is the value of this race? And is it meant to be a race? Are we meant to rush on, days at a time, giving no thought to the day we'll be asked to give account to our Heavenly Maker? Where is the daily bread? Where is the fellowship? Where is the peace and calm? Whatever happened to Sundays spent talking around the Word of God and singing? What will become of us, or our children without this "family of God"? Can we continue on so carelessly and still make it to Heaven someday?