Five years ago today, in the early morning hours, I awoke with a start. “I must get up to Hospice” was the thought that came before I could even think. I got out of bed, thinking I would take a shower before I left. The feeling and the urgency increased. “No, I must get up to Hospice.” Ok, I told myself, I will just brush my teeth and get on the road. The third time, stronger still was the sense of urgency that I must get to my mom. I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste and left the house quietly.
A few minutes later I arrived, rang the doorbell that allowed family in at all hours, and went to my mom’s room. My older sister had spent the night with her and was asleep in the chair. When I walked in, my mom looked at me, swallowed, and passed away.
We knew she could go at any time.
But you never expect today to be the day.
Thankfully, all my siblings had made it here in time to see her, to love on her, to thank her, to say their goodbyes.
Today, in honor of my mom, the life she lived, and the love she lavished upon us, I want to take an excerpt from the book, I Am Her.
“She is a daughter. She is a best friend. She is a pocketful of light. She is a spark of something good, getting brighter; a dream grown large; the right thing at the right time.
She is a dancer, a singer, a thinker, a truth-teller. A connoisseur of all the things this wide world has to offer. Her spirit is the first thing people notice. Her mind always had a mind of its own. Her heart, though it has sometimes been hurt, bears a strong resemblance to a daffodil: it always flowers again.
So she wakes with anticipation. She finds new hills to climb. And everyone agrees that the very fact of her in the world means there is still so much good to come.”
Today, mom, we remember you and honor you. Thank you for teaching us how to climb the hills, how to hope again, how to love unconditionally and how to always see the good in the world.
I love you.