Mother's Passing - I See Her Face

I got a call from my brother John very early in the morning of May 19, 2009. He said, “Mom is leaving us.” After I got off the phone with my brother I was beside myself, and I said to my wife that, “I have to be there.” My wife, Julie, knowing that I have struggled with the fact that my parents lived in Florida, and we lived in Decatur, Illinois, got on the computer to look for flights in order for me to travel down to see her one more time. Within twenty minutes of having received my brother’s call, I was packed and on the road to St. Louis, Missouri to catch the two-hour flight to Ft. Myers, Florida, to see my mother.


I had just been at the hospital days earlier. They had removed a lymphoma on the brain, and while I was there, I had seen her being able to raise both her arms for persons assessing her progress, and during the day not being able to lift her left arm. A humorous note was when a doctor said, “Can you raise your left arm for me?” My mother took her right hand and reached across her body to grab the sleeve of her lifeless left arm and raised it up for the doctor. The doctor said, “Now, you are cheating.”

Mom’s platelet count was dangerously low and she had formed a blood clot in the surgery area of the brain putting pressure so that her left side function was becoming limited. She made the decision to remove the blood clot so that she could begin to start rehabilitation; become strong again, so that doctors could begin to address the lymphoma that had also developed behind her heart.

I called my brother Jim, in California, and my brother Phil, in Illinois, to suggest to them to come and see Mom because of the seriousness of this situation. They came, after I left, so that they could see her, and as it turned out, for the last time. My brothers Jim and Phil were able to see that my mother was in dire straits, but both had to travel back to their respective homes before she passed.

But today, I was in the air, on my way once more to see Mom. I prayed that I could see her one more time, and to be with her at the end. When I landed, and was able to turn on my cell phone, I listened to a message from my brother John that, “Mom is gone.” I cried. I didn’t make it on time.

I had to keep my wits, because I knew I would be with my father who had to deal with this stark reality. Over the next few days we made the funeral arrangements. Dad struggled mightily, and over the next several months we had conversations, and wrote to each other about the significance of Mom’s passing.

Dad wanted to know that Mom was “safe” (in the “afterlife”; in heaven; with God, etc.). He prayed to be given assurance that this was the case. He prayed for sleep. He was granted both of these things. He was much happier to know that Mom was “safe”, but he still struggled at the loss of his dear wife.

Five months later Dad died of a major stroke at the age of eighty-four. Curiously, both my parents died from injuries that originated in the brain.

Mom’s ashes were transported, by my father, and were buried in Stoughton, Wisconsin, where they had lived for several years. They were tickled to have purchased, years ago, a plot that was relatively inexpensive in the new Lutheran South Cemetery. In several days, on June 12, 2010, my brother John will carry Dad’s ashes to be placed by my mother’s remains. It will be an ending to my parent’s story.

A year has gone by since my mother’s death. I feel her presence in my mind and heart. I can hear her talk to me. She says especially, “Don’t worry”, “I’m fine”, “You’re going to be alright”, and “Dad, is here with me.” I sit outside on the porch several times a day and look up at the patch of sky I can see through the trees. I see my mother's image in the clouds, and in the starry sky. It does not make any difference if it is day or night, I see her face. And, she is smiling.