Until We Meet Again

Goodbyes are not forever, are not the end; 

it simply means I'll miss you, 

until we meet again.  

It was Monday, April 28^th, 2014. I had picked up my nephew from the airport the previous night. We were meeting my sister (his mom), his dad, his step dad, and his brother at my parent’s house. They were coming to see our mom for the last time. We had a really nice day with all of us together. We listened to mom sing her favorite songs. She told us stories of her life. She still had a clear mind. She was in good spirits over all, even though she knew her time here in the physical body was almost up. For my sister and her family, this would be the last time they would see mom alive. At the end of the visit, one by one, each of them said their goodbyes to her. It was a really touching moment to witness.

After they all left, I stayed as long as I possibly could before I had to go back to my family. It takes me two hours to drive to my home from theirs. We all felt strongly, mom was at the end of her encounter with cancer. I wasn’t sure she would still be with us when I came up the next Saturday for Stacey’s graduation from USU, which would be my next visit with her, if she made it through the week. Alex and Stacey were now living with my parent’s in their basement. It was good to have them there to assist when they could, and it was comforting to know mom and dad were not alone.

Mom and I both felt it was important to say our farewells to each other that night as well. I knelt down in front of her so that we were face to face. I thanked her for all she had done for me in my life. We didn’t have a close relationship while I was growing up, or as an adult either. Yet, I knew she loved me the best she could. I loved her, the best I could too. Things had been particularly hard between us since I left the church. Truthfully, none of that mattered to us while death was knocking. We both laid aside our differences and spoke the certainty of our love, which we do have for each other. Honestly, there were no regrets. We both repeatedly said, “I love you” and “I’ll miss you”, with silent, hot tears as we embraced. She is my mother. I will always be appreciative to her for giving me Life; and, for all she has done for me, and my family, throughout this life. 

(Presently, I only dwell on the love that mom and I shared, and the good times we had together because I have recently discovered, with the passing of my father, that she was actually the kindest parent out of the two of them, which was truly shocking to me as she could be extremely mean. Someday in the future, I am sure I will explore the dark side of our mother/daughter relationship. I recognize that healing the ‘mother wound’ is vital. But, that will have to wait until the time is right; first, I must process the pain of my father's deceitful demise and the wake of destruction he left in his passing. The truth is I didn't know my father at all, I only knew the masks he wore for me, which covered up his ugly truths. However, I saw cracks in his masks the closer to death he approached. I wouldn't see the full scale of his darkness, or his true colors, until he was no longer around to conceal them. Back to my mother's passing....)

We came up for Stacey’s graduation on Saturday May 3^rd, 2014. My niece was also graduating from USU. My brother, his wife, his ex-wife, two of my nieces, their kids, and all of my kids were there. It was a very crowded house! The first thing mom said to me was, “I’m still here”, in a sad and weary voice. I just hugged her tight. It was terribly overwhelming to my dad to have all of us present. He was overwhelmed a lot in those final weeks. The tension in the house was overpowering. We didn’t hang about chatting very long. 

Stacey’s graduation was nice. We had been gone about two hours. Mom had fallen asleep on her couch immediately after we all left. She was still napping when we returned. I hadn’t planned on staying overnight. We were going to go to dinner with Stacey’s family on our way home. However, Randy thought I should spend the night with my dad and my mom. My closest sister had been staying with them all week. She had gone home to be with her husband for the weekend. Since Randy was okay with it, I decided to stay the night and planned to go home on Sunday morning since Randy was leaving on a business trip that next day.

When my family left, it was just mom, dad, and I. Dad let me know what had happened while we were gone. Mom’s breathing was irregular, so he had called Hospice to come and check her out. She was fine. She never really woke up while they were there. The nurse from hospice told dad to just let mom sleep, not to wake her, thanks to their advice, that’s what we did. Dad relaxed like I hadn’t seen him relax in months. We ate dinner together and talked at the kitchen table for several hours. During that time, he was his old self. The stress was gone for those few precious moments. Mom slept on the couch near us the entire time. When dad decided to go lock up the shed and do a few things outside for the night, I said I would sit with mom until he was done.

After dad left, I went over to her. I knelt down beside her, took her hand in mine, and started to cry. I talked to her out loud, sincerely pouring my heart out to her. I asked her to please not stay any longer than she needed. I prayed that grandma Ruby would come to get her soon. She never woke up while I cried and talked to her. But, I am positive she heard me, understood what I was saying, and agreed. It was time for her to move on to her next great adventure.

Dad slept by her in the family room that night. I went downstairs to my bed. About midnight, dad yelled for me and Alex to come help him. He had moved mom to their bed when she woke up a while later. Mom had now fallen out of their bed. Dad couldn’t physically lift her back up into it by himself. It took all three of us to get mom back into their bed. She had no strength to help us at all. I knew right then this had to change. They could not go one more night without a hospital bed for mom. 

Once she was back in their bed, I did Reiki on her for a while to help her get to sleep. Then, I went back to bed too. Until, my dad yelled for us again at 6:30 am. This time mom hadn’t fallen. She was wide awake. Dad was having trouble getting her into the wheel chair by himself, something he usually had no problem doing because mom could help too. However, there had been a change in mom through the night. She was sitting on the edge of their bed when I entered their room. When I looked directly into her eyes, it was crystal clear to me; this was the beginning of the end.

Mom hadn’t bled this much since January, when they first discovered the cancer. This was bad. We needed a hospice nurse there to help us ASAP! It was Sunday morning. We managed to get mom into the wheel chair and into the bathroom. But, we didn’t let her move out of that chair. We needed to get help first. Dad called hospice, and they were coming as soon as they could.

The main problem was mom kept slipping in and out of reality. I had never seen her like that. At moments, she understood us. Other times, she really didn’t comprehend what was going on at all. The nurse came as soon as she could. It was about 45 minutes that we had to wait with mom in the wheel chair. When the sweet Hospice nurse finally arrived, she helped us clean mom up. Mom grasped for a few moments that she was bleeding again and wanted to go to the hospital. If she were to go to the hospital that would cancel her hospice agreement, truthfully, she wanted to be at home when she passed. Therefore, going to the hospital wasn’t a viable option. And the truth was there was nothing they could do for her at the hospital that we couldn’t do for her here at her home. They did order her a hospital bed and around 10:30 in the morning it came. We put it in their large family room so she could be a part of everything, then we got mom comfortable in her new bed.  

We called all the family to let them know this was definitely the end of her mortal life. Two of my sisters were there with me and my dad. Since my brother and my other sister both lived out of state and had already said their farewells to mom, they chose not to come again. Mom would never get out of that bed alive. It would take four days for her to completely leave her body. She definitely had moments of clarity with us, where we could talk to her, and ask her questions. Then, she would be gone again in another world with other people she knew. Sometimes the two worlds would cross. She would be talking to us and seeing the other side as well, those were really beautiful, and sometimes very humorous, moments.

Once she asked me if I could see all the people in the room with us. I told her no. I didn’t see them. I asked her who else was there with us. She said her mom, my grandma Ruby, was standing there waiting for her. Mom slipped away once more before she could say anything else. I tried to keep her talking to me, but she wouldn’t respond. Another time, while I was doing Reiki on her, she looked like she was peacefully sleeping. Without opening her eyes she said, “I know that is my Myndee. You have such sweet hands.” I did Reiki on her as often as I could. Another time when I was giving her a cool sip of water she sincerely said to me, “You’re taking such good care of me. I don’t deserve such good care. Where did you learn to be so thoughtful?” I responded with, “Of course you do mom! And, you already know. Being a mother is the most selfless act, thoughtfulness and caring comes naturally when you’re a mom; thanks for being mine.” She smiled softly, patted my hands, and gently closed her eyes again. I felt closer to her in her final weeks of life than I had my whole life, and it was wonderful. Our bond was what it was over the years, mostly rocky and rough; however, we changed it when we were both ready to see our relationship differently. Caring for her those final four days of her life were definitely the most special to me. They are precious moments I will never forget. I am so grateful I was able to be of service to her in her final hours.

Her brother came to say goodbye to her that Sunday afternoon. We were all talking and sharing stories. At times, mom would join in the discussion randomly and clearly, for just a sentence or two. I loved those moments when she popped into our reality for an instant. They say that the hearing is the last to go so be careful what you say around those who are transitioning. After what we experienced, I believe that is true. Since we hadn’t planned for any of this to happen, Randy had to make arrangements for our kids. He was leaving for California that Sunday morning when everything changed for mom. He took our children to his mother’s house to stay until I came home on Monday night.

I waited as long as I possibly could before leaving that night. I wanted to spend every feasible minute with my mom. I didn’t think she would still be there when I came back on Tuesday evening. I would be gone for 24 hours. I didn’t see how she could possibly hang on to her body long. When I knew I couldn’t stay any longer, I started crying really hard. I wanted to be with her when she passed like I was with my grandma Ruby. But in case I wasn’t, I felt I needed to say goodbye to her one more time. She had been unresponsive for quite a while lying peacefully with her eyes closed. I didn’t expect her to respond to me at all. I got close to her face, put my arms around her, and through weeping tears I said, “I am sorry mom. I have to go home now…” My goodbye was abruptly interrupted. Her eyes popped open wide; she lifted her head off the pillow, and clearly said to me, “You have to go home now?” And then, she made a very heartbreaking expression with her face as she laid her head back on the pillow. It actually scared the hell out of me for a second. It was as if I had awakened the dead! I’ll never forget her instantaneous, poignant reaction to my announcement of departure! Those were her final words to me. I never heard her speak again in the physical form. I hugged her, kissed her, and said I love you many times. But, she was already gone again, in another place, not with me anymore.

After that, I left to go pick up my kids. My mother in law came home with us too. That way, I could return the next day to be with my dad, and perhaps, with mom. Tuesday, I arrived back at my parent’s house late in the evening. Mom had been begging to die a lot that day, in and out of reality again, often saying, “Help me mama.” I was glad I didn’t have to witness that. When I arrived, she was in a more final state. She never spoke again. However, at times she could still open her eyes and respond with smiles, nods, and facial expressions, which were awesome to see. Wednesday was a very long day caring for her. It was a very long night too.

Thursday morning around 1:00 am, mom’s breathing changed. She started the ‘death rattle’. If you have never heard it before, it is hard to describe. If you have heard it, it is something you will never forget. She had stopped swallowing. Yet, she was still breathing. We all knew it wouldn’t be too much longer before she left the body completely. My last shift with mom was from 4 am to 6 am. I talked with her, rested by her, gave her Reiki, and held her hand. At 6:30 am, dad left to go pick up my oldest sister to bring her back to the house. My closest sister and I decided to put essential oils on our mom before they got back. We rubbed orange and lavender oil around her head and neck. When they got back at 7:00 am, I went down stairs to take a shower. I had talked with Alex for a few minutes and was just gathering my things when my sister yelled for me to come back upstairs. Mom had just taken her last breath.

I couldn’t believe that she had finally transitioned, and I wasn’t there to witness it. I ran up the stairs. It was true. She was gone. My mother released her body on May 8^th, 2014 at 7:20 am, the Thursday before Mother’s day.

I am exceedingly appreciative for the time I had with her at the end of her earthly life. I learned a lot in those final days by her side. The truth is we are never alone. The Spiritual Plane with our loved ones is closer than we know. Those who have crossed over are always by our side when we need them, constantly supporting us in ways we can’t understand or even imagine. At the end of our life, the only thing that truly matters is how much we’ve loved for only love is real.

God be with you mom; until, we meet again. 

On the top is my mothers high school graduation picture from 1947, age 17; in the middle is my high school graduation picture from 1986, age 17; and, last is my mother's mother, grandma Ruby, at age 18. Three generations of gorgeous Goddess Warriors! 

Namaste!

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