A Visit from Mom

Mom visited Maya in a vision shortly after she passed.  Appearing in the doorway of her room while Maya was overcome with sadness, her appearance instantly calming Maya.  She appeared with purpose.  As quickly as she came, in a blink she was gone.  Mom has visited Angel in dreams, answering questions she deposits in a journal.  I’ve sensed her in darting Cardinals and Monarch butterflies, but never a manifested presence.  Maya, ever so wise, explains it’s because I don’t need her.  But still.

Then she came last evening.

She was resting, barely covered with loose semi-transparent sheets, in a bed located in the  middle of a bustling city intersection.  Immediately jumping to protect and shield her from eyes too busy to notice, I climbed into bed noticing her battle scarred body.  Mastectomy breasts, port in her chest, needle scars and bruises.  I nestled her head into the nook of my shoulder and there she rested.  But I sensed that she didn’t need the rest, she was simply pacifying me.  I still can feel the sparse regrowth of bristly hair  on my lips as I curled closer and kissed her crown. My right arm, curled around her frame can still feel her soft, loose skin on my fingertips.  Reaching to cover her with more of the thin sheets, I could sense that she no longer needed the cover.  She visited me in the only way I’d still recognize her but she no longer carries that frame. 

Then, as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.  The bed gone.  The sheets gone.  I was in the busy intersection, but no longer and not ever alone. 

Awake, completing my morning routine, but ever processing the dream.  Content.  Inspired.  Grateful.  Eager to journal so that I wouldn’t forget a single ounce.

The Days After

Moments after 1:45am, January 2, 2015, I transformed from loving comforter to committed funeral planner.  She told me her wishes, now was my time to execute.  Home at 3am, restless at 6am, I climbed out of bed and hit the ground.  Freshen up as visitors will begin to arrive, begin to clean kitchen for same reasons.  By 8am, the funeral home was calling..I suppose that means Mom's earth suit was transported back to Federalsburg.  They were available to meet, so I raced in town to hammer out the details.  They had the perfect dark blue urn (her favorite color) and a guest book/card set with the garden of her dreams printed upon it's cover.  This is going so smoothly. Too smoothly...I think  I must be heartless, cold, why am I not a quivering mess?  I'm in Get-It-Done mode. A dear friend compared it to planning a wedding and that only after will this all settle in.

I have to identify her before cremation.  Thankful that I don't have to witness her in foreign surroundings, the owner traipses downstairs to take a picture.  I can hear every step so I can imagine Mom right beneath me.  I distract myself with desk brochures...steps returning.  I take a deep breath and wait for the photo to load on her desktop monitor.  Yes, that's her.  They did something with her mouth because now it's closed.  She appears content, peaceful...the faintest hint of a Mona Lisa-esque smile.  I'm tasked with forms to complete and her obituary to forward and still without a tear, I'm out the door.  Leaving her behind. 

Returning to Pepper Road, brother calls to inform me he has broken the news to our 90yo Grandmother.  She's distraught.  Feeling like she's lost her best friend.  I think, surely she's been thru this countless times, I always assume older people handle death easier.  Shifting from park to reverse, I motor over to her home...partly my Dad's store (which is open that day, by the way).  Bryan reports he needs the distraction...I scowl at the sole customer leaning over the counter.  Don't you have anything better to do?  Are you really waiting for a vehicle?  I digress...that's another post.  I find Grandma in the kitchen, more frail than I saw her last.  I hadn't visited while I was on Mom duty.  I couldn't handle anything more.  She's crying.  I can't remember the last time I saw her cry.  Mom was always helping her clean, organize, transporting her to doctors visits, the hair salon, and bank.  I comfort her the best I can, having to yell to be heard makes me feel insincere.  No one had updated her these past 12 days so she was shocked...last we spoke, she hoped Mom would 'snap out of it'. 

Back home, gracious family arrives with sandwiches in tow.  I didn't realize how hungry I was for food and laughter.  They truly are both good medicines. After, I begin sorting Mom's room with Jody. Mom had tasked us with taking what was sentimental to us and sending the rest to Goodwill.  I've seen family and friends transform after death..suddenly nasty, suspicious, greedy.  When Tim's grandfather Gerald died, his home was looted by friends and family...pictures snagged from walls, seasoned cast iron pots lifted.  No shame.  So, I'm careful to tell everyone of anything I claim as mine.  Of all items, I'm only interested in Mom and Grandma Hasting's recipe boxes.  Cards written in their handwriting.  Family recipes and traditions to continue. 

Back home in Shrewsbury, Pa, it's more flurry...sweet friends make us dinner and grace me with moments to reflect and share.  But still no breakdown.  Friends text daily to see if I'm still breathing.  Waiting for the floodgates to open, I ask Tim if he thinks I'm heartless.  We agree that I've been crying for months.  When she called to report her Cancer numbers were high again, I wept.  When she called to tell me she was taking a break from chemo, I wept.  When I felt far away and helpless, I wept.  I've leaked a lot over a long time and now only peace remains. We Christians mourn, but not as those who have no hope. I am wearing a completely different set of spectacles by which I see this world...this temporary dwelling where we are tested and grown daily to become something better.  (yet another post...).  So, friends, in the moment I write this, I am breathing, moving thru the day, not bed-bound.  I can't speak for tomorrow or even later today, however.  But know that your prayers, hugs, love, messages, texts, calls, meals, gifts, and visits are appreciated more than I can express.  Much love returned to every single one.  xoxo