This week's Throwback Thursday takes us back to this date two years ago -- January 15, 2013. The day my mother died. These were some of my thoughts one week after she died.
Saying goodbye
For those of you who haven't heard, my
mother died last week. Bill and I traveled across the state on January
5th to spend her 86th birthday with her on the 7th. Our plan was to
return home on the 8th, but we extended our visit through the 10th. Two
days later, my mom suffered 3 massive strokes and went into a coma. She
never regained consciousness. At 8:53 a.m. Tuesday, January 15th, her
heart slowed down until it just stopped beating. She died peacefully.
While she was in a coma, I talked to
her, rubbed her feet and arms, kissed her face and sang to her. She
loved the song, "If He Walked into My Life Today" from Mame.
I think it reminded her of my dad. While I couldn't possibly match
Eydie Gorme's voice, I sang it anyway. Then I sang a song that always
made her cry. Growing up as part of the congregation of Zion Evangelical
Lutheran Church in Manheim, PA (the Red Rose Church), my sisters and I
sang in the Children's Choir. Every year, we sang "Let There Be Peace on
Earth." It wasn't just the song that Mom loved; it was also the memory
of her sweet little girls singing their hearts out in the choir loft
behind the majestic pipe organ. I fought back my own tears as I leaned
over her bed singing the words to her... funny how I'd never picked up
on one of the last lines of the song before -- "To take each moment and
live each moment in peace eternally..." The word pierced my
heart. I wasn't ready to let her go. I wasn't ready for her to
transition into eternity. I just wasn't ready.
On Saturday, my husband closed out her
memorial service by singing "Let There Be Peace On Earth." It wasn't
quite the same as if my sisters and I had sang it, but it was probably
just as difficult for him to do. Bill loved my mom. And she loved him.
Of the past 17 days, I spent 15 of them
in my hometown. In addition to saying goodbye to my mom, I also have to
say goodbye to my childhood home. It's not easy. Our house in Manheim
was a gathering place for all of us. My niece, who lives in NYC, and my
nephew, from Vegas, consider it home. My own children have years worth
of memories there. Even my mom's great-grandchildren love going there.
As we sorted through Mom's things, we
each took special items... items that will remind us, not only of her,
but of our history in that house. It was the house where I wrote my
first poem. The house where I discovered my love of writing. And of
birds. It was where I learned about family and forgiveness and
resilience. I nursed my own broken heart there time and time again. And
it was the place where I launched dreams in that same heart. Let me tell
you... it's not easy to let go.
As much as I'm not unfamiliar with
grief, I am not familiar with what is ahead. I suspect the pain will
knock me down at unexpected moments. That is why I'm asking for your
grace. Postings may be sporadic for awhile. But I'll be back to my daily
postings eventually. I just need a bit of time to reflect, to mourn and
to get my bearings. My mother and my home were constants in my life. I
think I'm about to lose my footing.
Hana
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