Oct

1

By admin

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Categories: celebrant musings

Pure Love

My mom experienced healing as she was dying from cancer.

She turned into pure love, as evidenced by what she said and did in her last few days.  Her chicks (children and grandchildren) had come to visit one last time. 

Earlier, she’d divided her jewelry, gathered from round the world, amongst the seven women in her descendents and their wives.  She told her life’s story and described those she had known and loved.  She phoned the remaining older relatives, checking in one last time.  And on Friday she told my brother that everyone had “come home” except me.

I was there five weeks earlier, but that was too long ago, so I came that very Friday evening on a late flight.  She said, “Come here, my beautiful daughter, let me look at you,” when we arrived.  She held me at arm’s length and gazed into my eyes.  “I knew you’d come,” she said.

Mom then died on Tuesday around 2:30 in the afternoon.  On Sunday she told me she thought she’d die soon and then we had a wonderful conversation.  She told me how she thought I looked like her when I was born and that I was beautiful and that she knew I’d always love her.  We laughed about our camping trips and funny times we’d shared.  We spoke of how she’d moved far away from family and support when I was a baby and I asked if she was lonely.

“No, I had you and Dad and then Larry and then Mark,” as she wrapped her arms around herself.  “All I ever wanted.”

She told me I’d been a “good daughter”.  We spoke for about an hour with laughter and tears.  That was our last good talk.

The night before my sister-in-law asked Mom if she would forgive her for caregiving times when she might have been short-tempered,  “I will.  I will.  I will”, she said.  All was forgiven.  All was healed.

My niece crawled in bed with her and they cried and talked.  I was told they talked about love and life and sex and God and everything! Things have not always been easy between them.  Now everything had “come round right”.

Her grandson held her in his arms on Sunday and talked lovingly of her and his grampa, how much he’d loved him and how he thought they’d be together again.  He’d chosen a Glen Miller CD to play—one of Grampa’s favorites.  She told him how much Grampa loved him, how he was his “special” grandson.  Nick was filled with love.

Nick’s wife Daiana was there to touch and hold any time someone had to leave or take a break.  Mom told her to “take good care of Nick” and “thank you for being with me”.

Also on Sunday evening she told my brother Larry her last words to him, “Love is everything.  Love is easy.”  Larry should know.  He had lovingly cared for her for many years and especially during her year-long battle with ovarian cancer.

On Monday she said little.  But she threw her arms up in the air over and over, hugging invisible greeters.  We called our brother, Mark, and she lay seemingly unresponsive while we talked, but when he said he was sending her a hug, up went the arm for an air hug.

Her last 24 hours she did not speak.  She worked hard at the act of dying.  We held her hand, sang to her, stroked her hair, never left her alone from Sunday night until her death.  She was calm as she withdrew from the world as a healed symbol of pure love.

We are so lucky.

On our way to the memorial service, Mom’s cremains in the backseat of her Bluebird.