I flew home last week knowing that the time I had with my Mother was coming to an end. I knew she had only months left with us, and I had made arrangements to spend as many weekends as I could getting in those quality conversations and making memories over the coming Holidays and springtime. Since I moved away, our time together has been limited to a week or two a year and we had a ritual that we used every time we parted – the “Last Hug.” After she left me at the airport she would often call me on the phone and say that she wished she would have gotten one last hug from me. The last hug at the airport was never long enough. In the last couple of years we had changed our goodbyes to holding each other extra tight and extra long and speaking the words “Last Hug.” It was meant to get us through until we could be with each other again.
Shortly after I arrived at the hospital I realized that my planned months ahead with my Mother had been taken away and replaced with mere hours. As I sat with her through those final days and nights I cried at the thought of her not being there for all of the happy events to come in our lives; at knowing I could no longer pick up the phone and ask for a recipe, or talk about what flowers to plant or what her plans were for the day. I cried at the thought that her grandchildren would never again spend a Christmas morning with “Grammie” and that my house would never again be filled with the happiness and comfort that she always brought with her when she visited. I panicked at the thought of a life without Mom. And then I thought how incredibly selfish those thoughts were.
When I had first arrived at the hospital, I told my Mother that we were all in this together. She couldn’t speak so she shook her head “no.” This was perplexing to me at the time because we were all gearing up for the battle with cancer that was looming before us. A few days later she could manage a few words, and one of the last sentences my Mother spoke was “No More Pain.” She wanted to be free of the agonizing pain that ceaselessly tormented her. But it was more than that. She was determined that none of us were going to suffer with her through a long battle with an inevitable end. She wanted “no more pain” not only for her, but for us. As was so typical of my Mother, she took care of all of us throughout her life, down to her last moments.
And so on Sunday morning, October 26, I gave my mother our last hug. I find solace in knowing that she is no longer in pain, and that she would want none of the pain that we are feeling today to last beyond today. My mother was an extraordinary woman. She was my hero, and my best friend. Today I am going to mourn her loss. But tomorrow I hope you will all help me celebrate her life.
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