Saturday, June 2, 2012

Our last conversation...

One of the things I have heard the most since my mother's passing is this statement: "Talk to her; she can still hear you."  I know people mean well, and I know there might be a grain of truth to their words, but nothing beats the real deal.  A conversation in the flesh, not one in which I talk to the air and wonder if she really sits around in heaven waiting on me to say something.  I hope she doesn't.  I hope there are much more fantastic things to do there than sit around waiting by the proverbial phone.  I know she is aware of us, and I focus in on asking Jesus to give her a hug from me or tell her something instead of talking directly to her.

All that being said, I've been thinking a lot about our last conversation.  Mind you, it was one way.  I did the talking; she did the listening.  She lay there in her bed, chest rattling, breaths irregular and shallow.  I shut the door to her room and laid down beside her on the bed stroking her head and the hair that had finally started coming back in.

"Mama, I know you can hear me.  I know you can.  I have some things I need to tell you.  I went to Belk today... the same one in Prattville where we went to pick out Grandmother's suit that day.  I found you something, Mama.  It's a white suit, and I got a pretty pink shell to go underneath, and you will look just like an angel.  Everything is done and ready.  You can go with Jesus and be with your Mama and your Sister.  I will miss you so much.  So much every day.  I will never be the same without you here with me.  But I will thank God for you every day.  I promise I will.  I love you so much."

I laid there with the shell of her.  Just a barely hanging on body.  One so tired from the treacherous battlefield of cancer.  I can't say that I would ever be prepared to let her go, but there was no denying it was time.

There comes a point in every terminal illness that you realize the best thing to do for the one you love is to release them. Give them back to their Creator, give them permission to claim their prize.  Reassure them that even though they will be missed that everyone left behind will be okay.  It's one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life, but one of the most beautiful all at the same time.  I didn't think I wanted to chronicle it here, but I want to make it permanent in time for me, something I can not only review in my head, but one I can go back and revisit in typed words.

Truth is, I am learning so much about my future in writing.  I want so desperately to minister to people dealing with the terminal illness of a loved one.  I want to write a book about clinging on to the Truths of Scripture during the battle.  As an onlooker and caregiver, it's the only thing you've got.  There's no way to control any of it... not the treatment, the doctors, the patient, the dreadful disease eating away at your loved one's life.  But you can control the way it effects you, your relationship with the One who hurts along side you, the Creator of all life and of our true home in Heaven.  Funny how my 46,000 words I have of a novel {that needs a lot of work, mind you} means nothing to me any more.  I want to write about this whole cancer experience and turn it into something beneficial for others.  Talk about Divine Retribution (Isaiah 35:4).

I have tried my best to make good on my promise to her that night.  I have thanked God for her most every day.  Some days have been harder than others.  Some days there were many tears that accompanied my thanksgiving.  Some thanks were followed by a big ole' BUT I WISH SHE WERE STILL HERE.  He knows and understands.  And He strokes my long hair, just like she did in those final days, and comforts my soul.

Lord... sweet Heavenly Father... continue to rain your mercy down on my aching soul.  Continue to show me Your patience.  Thank you for the lovely lady you gave me for 35 years.  Thank you for taking out of her suffering and into Your radiant presence.  In Jesus precious and powerful name... Amen. 


Chelle said...

I think it would be a best seller because there are an awful lot of people who need just that kind of book (sadly). Go for it, my friend. I have faith in you and you have an angel on your side as well.

Nana's Notes said...

It seems you have your answer. You can use your gift to help other suffering souls. It will be beautiful like you....and your Mother!