breeze blowing through the windowLIFE

My mom’s final moments and the beginning of my pain

breeze blowing through the window(I wrote this within about an hour after my mom died on May eleventh while I was waiting for Hospice to come. I wrote it because I want a written account of how I felt in the hopes that it will prove helpful to someone else going through this. I’m reposting this in honor of her memory.)

The breeze is blowing the curtain, cooling you as only a perfect spring breeze can.

You opened your eyes for me this morning as we were bathing you.

You looked right at me and I was thrilled. I had so hoped to have you awake again for even a minute.

“Hi, mom. It’s so good to see your eyes open.”

Quickly, they closed.

Were you telling me to get ready?

I sat on your deck for a few minutes.

I came back in and when I walked into your bedroom, I immediately knew you were leaving me.

In a matter of minutes, you were gone. I kept kissing you and told you how much I loved you as you breathed your last breath.

I thought I was prepared.

I wasn’t.

I thought I was strong.

I’m not.

There aren’t words to describe the pain.

The Crabtree outside your window is in full bloom.

Somehow, that seems wrong to me.

I think, that like Jesus cursed the fig tree,  I should curse it and make it die. It shouldn’t be in bloom when you’re not.

I have been on so many journeys with you, Mom, but I don’t like this one. After four days of sitting by your bedside, I had convinced myself you were going to wake up. So now it’s even harder.

I know you are in heaven.

I know I should be happy for you but I’m just selfish enough to be sad.

The angels are clapping.

You are seeing your beautiful new home.

You are healed and you can walk again and no one is going to nag you about using your walker.

I’m happy for you, Mom, but I hate this. I really, really hate this.

Bye, Mom. I will love you forever.


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7 replies »

  1. Peace, warmth, & love for you and your mother—I still remember my last moments with my mom & my dad—-I’m in a placement in Fennville basically against my will & angry about it——————but the food is good and I’m eating regularly again

    What were the ages of your parents when they left us…………

    Thanks for thinking of me——love, paul

    • I’m sure you are where you need to be for now. My mom was ninety-two, my dad seventy-nine. We were very close. The funeral is Tuesday. We were hoping it could be sooner. I truly hope you start doing better. Thank you for the condolences. I’m wishing you the best.

  2. I am so very sorry for your loss. I am sitting here crying…we share this same experience with our moms. May God keep you in His care, in His mercy, and in His love. Any time you might need a heart to listen, please email me at Remember that you are not alone, and you, your mother, and your family are being prayed for. Love and blessings, Bernadette

    • Bernadette, Thank you for going through this journey with me. The funeral is Tuesday @ 11:00 EST and I need prayer. I have something I’m going to read and really want to be able to get through it without falling apart. Today should’ve been really hard for me but you know it didn’t bother me when I saw mothers and daughters together. I was happy for them. I had my mom for many years and all of those years but the last, she and I were able to do a lot together.

      Sometime in the future, I will share more of our story. We had our “issues” at times, she could be very hard on me, but we loved each other deeply. I always thought of her as my “sandpaper person”. You know who that is, don’t you? That’s the person in your life that refines you by constantly rubbing off your rough edges. . Everyone needs one. Who will be that person now? Maybe, that was the lesson I needed to learn, that maybe I don’t need a “sandpaper person” anymore. Thank you for your many thoughts and prayers.

      God bless.