Mom

It's been four months since we sat at my mother's bedside, knowing that any breath could be her last. Four months since my sister and I rushed back into the room after the briefest time away, knowing we'd missed her home going. How like my Mom to wait until we'd left the room.

I still think of her so often! "I'll forward this email to Mom, she'll get a kick out of it..." or, "I'll have to save this book for Mom, she's going to love this author!", or "I wonder how she's feeling, or what the doctor had to say"..

I try to spend time with my Step-Dad, to ease his loneliness, and in gratitude for the way he has always cared for my mother. It's hard, I feel her absence keenly in his presence. There is a feeling of "alone-ness" in my days, that I don't remember ever having felt. How much of who I am had it's beginning in my Mother, in her early nurturing, in her example of hard work, a "can-do" attitude in the face of any challenge. She would sacrifice without complaint, defend any or all of her children against all comers! (Of course, then she'd take you home and give you what for!)

Rick and I, along with Dawn and Todd will take Clay to Sunday Brunch at Charlie Brown's for Father's Day this weekend. We will try hard not to notice the empty place at the table. I can so clearly see my Mom leaning forward, her left arm resting on the table from elbow to wrist, as she labored to make a point. I can see her small hand running through white hair, so much like my Grandmother's, or her finger raised like an exclamation point for emphasis.

I want to remember always the startling blue of her eyes, her little feet with such high arches, and little, pierced ears. I can see her wearing the Betty Boop levi jacket she so loved, or the Laker's jacket that was a miniature version of Clay's much larger one. I remember her big, deep breaths when she fundamentally disagreed with something said while she mentally prepared her argument. The way she would move her dinner napkin over the spot her plate had occupied once the table had been cleared. It was as if she were trying to clean up some invisible spill only she could see as she listened to the conversation and prepared her ammunition for the next volley.

I never thought I'd miss those uncomfortable moments of having to bite my tongue in the realization that if someone didn't keep quiet, we'd never get away from the dinner table! But I DO miss those moments... and a thousand others!

I'm so grateful to know that she is safely home... Not here, where I can call the one person in the world who would know something was bothering me before I'd said much more than hello, not where I can forward an email, or take her to brunch, but with Jesus! Comfortable, joyful, without pain or tears, knowing I will see her again.