Momma and the birds

I don’t think I really believe in reincarnation. However, I do believe in the interconnectedness of the universe. Therefore, it’s not too much of a stretch for me to see signs of Momma all around me – in the bird flying by during my morning prayer, in the pigeon cooing outside the sun porch.

There was a special place in Mom’s heart for birds. She collected little birds and ducks. She loved watching humming birds in the garden and the ducks on the pond. She delighted in the birth of the baby ducks and their nurture by the momma duck.

Thinking about Momma and the birds reminded me of an old story she once told me. She and her cousins once caught pigeons in their aunt’s attic, killed and cleaned them, and then roasted them. Now, this may strike some as a horror worthy of PETA’s attention. However, in the context of country life and raising chickens, Mom and her cousins were simply doing what they had seen their parents do over and over again.

As Mom is reunited with the souls of those cousins, aunts, parents, and, I would imagine, the pigeons, I hope there are no hard feelings.

Sue

End of the vigil

After our three-day vigil, Mom finally stopped breathing on Friday evening at 7:11 p.m. We were all there, placing carryout orders for dinner, when Sis’s partner said something like, “This is it…gather around.”

We made sure Dad was standing by the bed. All the rest of us, including my older son and his fiancé, were there, too. Mom’s chest, which had been heaving with the effort to breathe, became still. Moments like that should be silent, reverent. But I’ll always remember the sound of rushing water – the toilet that wouldn’t stop running in the adjacent bathroom. Sis noted that Mom had always loved the ocean; maybe this ocean-like sound effect was especially for her.

I had made prior arrangements with a local funeral home for Mom’s cremation. The on-call hospice nurse was to come and prepare the death certificate, then call the funeral home representative, who, I was told, could be there in 10-15 minutes. However, due to traffic, the whole process, took about three hours. Finally, we said our last good-byes to Mom, draped in red velvet. Mom’s face was relaxed; death had removed all wrinkles and worry lines. I had always thought that was a trick performed by funeral directors.

At about 11 p.m., we all arrived at the nearby all-night diner, where we nourished our bodies and souls. There were many laughs over family memories and other stories, all part of the grieving and healing process.

When I finally got to bed at about 12:30 a.m., I thanked God for the blessings of family; for the many caring people who surrounded us all day; for Mom’s life and her care for all of us; for music and laughter in the midst of sadness; and, most of all, for the hope and assurance of life eternal.

Sue

Powerful spirit

This is the first time I’ve been this close to someone who is about to die. I’ve wondered if and how I would know when Momma’s spirit makes the transition. If I were sitting and watching, I’d surely know; I’d see her breathing stop.

Perhaps there would be other signs. Like a few days ago, when Sis and her partner were in Mom’s room and the TV turned on every time Mom tried to speak. The first time it happened, they turned the TV off, but then Mom spoke again, and the TV turned back on. Both times it was not on a channel, just gray fuzz.

The next day when I was with Mom, she raised her arms toward the TV on the wall and tried to sit up. She said, “I’ve got to go up there.” I said, “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll be going up there soon.” But it was only later that I connected “up there” with the TV and the gray fuzz.

At this moment I’m in Dad’s apartment in the building next to Mom’s nursing center. It’s about 1:00 a.m. and I can’t sleep. I got up to empty my bladder, and when I went back to bed, I had a pain in my back, between my shoulder blades, so intense I thought I was having a heart attack.

I don’t really believe it’s a heart attack. But I won’t be surprised to soon hear that Momma has passed. I can believe that she’s grabbing me, holding on for dear life, as her own heart races and then stops. Sis and her partner are with Mom, to assure her that it’s OK to go when it’s time. I’d be there, too, but I’m afraid to leave Dad alone. Perhaps I’m imagining all of this, but when I listen to him breathing, I’m hearing an unusual restlessness, some undecipherable talking in his sleep, and I wonder if Mom is grabbing at him, too.

Sue

A foot in each world

A hospice agency gave us a little booklet on what to expect as Mom nears death. It’s been extremely helpful to recognize and accept her lessening appetite and her varying states of consciousness and drowsiness (mostly the latter).

The booklet says that the person is going back and forth between life and death in a sense, already seeing people she hasn’t seen for a long time, and recalling things from the past. Mom also talks to herself but we have a hard time hearing the words, let alone understanding them.

Yesterday, she told me clearly that a woman came to see her, and I asked her who it was. She couldn’t tell me but said, “We’ll have to find out.” I wanted to ask, “Was it your mother? Was it your best friend, MJ?” I can’t help but wonder what her reunion with those and other dear long-passed people will be like.

Sue