A Miracle from my friend Janet…
It was July 2012 and I had been managing my mom’s life for a number of years. My duties as her only daughter became more intense as we strived for her to continue living in her own apartment, albeit with regular visits from nurses and home helpers. During that time Mum survived a major hip injury, returned home, and we got through the rigors of intense ointment therapy for her persistent psoriasis.
Much of my life revolved around Mum at that time. That meant letting go of some other aspects of my life, but I valued her company in those final years. In between my daily visits, I practiced my self-inquiry techniques in order to enhance our relationship. Each day I arrived at Mum’s place, willing and ready to be more compassionate, open and authentic with her than ever before.
Our life-long ‘anxious-mom-controls-daughter’ habits fell away, and when I was tucking in her bedclothes one evening, out of the blue she said “You know what?”. I said “What?” She said “I love you very much”. For us, this was a major turning point. I had grown up in a stable home, knowing I was loved by both parents, but most of our emotions were rarely, if ever expressed openly.
Yes, I was grateful for those final intimate months when mom and I became more like close friends or sisters, with our love expressed and fun times listening to her favourite Frank Sinatra songs, or hearing about her young life in WWII and her five-year separation from her sweetheart, my beloved father, sent away in the army at a young age, but returning safe and sound to marry Mum and live out their days until his untimely death forty years before her.
In June 2012 things became unmanageable with Mum at home. I was at the end of my tether and she was taken in to our local community hospital for assessment. Mum celebrated her 90th birthday there, surrounded by her family, while Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations were televised in the hospital’s dining room.
My American boyfriend Ron was visiting at the time, and we searched for an appropriate present for Ron to bring to Mum. She loved the Royal Family, and Ron found a blue glass vase that commemorated the Queen’s Jubilee. He fixed a red rose in the vase and presented it to Mum. The rose was ‘artificial’, ensuring its longevity in hospital where most fresh flowers had a short life or were barred from the rooms.
This was the second time Mum had met Ron. She had quickly become very fond of him. She accepted Ron’s present with pleasure and it took pride of place in her hospital room. In July it was decided that Mum should move into specialist accommodation. I was not willing to nurse her 24/7 and she needed proper care. To get her used to the idea that I was reclaiming my personal life, I announced I was taking a vacation in the US with Ron that coming September, and that this was non-negotiable.
A week or so later, I got a call from the hospital. Mom was going downhill fast with a chest infection. I arrived in time to be with her for the last hour of her life. I had wanted to be with her when she passed, and she had wanted to die in her sleep, which she did. However, I was talking to her and stroking her head during her final minutes. As I said “Mum, your spirit is going to soar and you will be free of all your pain and encumbrances …” She peacefully drew her last breath.
I called the nurses and left them to lay Mum out and clear up her room. When I returned, she looked at peace: Perfect Peace laying there. All her belongings had been cleared from the room, ready for me to take them away. Her cards had been taken down from the wall. Just one thing remained. Ron’s red rose lay on Mum’s pillow, next to her head. It was like Mum was saying “Go for it girl. Go to the man you love with my blessing.”
So I did go to him, and Mum’s most treasured diamond ring became my engagement ring. Every time I see a red rose, it reminds me of the connection between me, my Mum and the man who is now my husband.
—o0o—
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