Goodbye, Mama

Exactly one year ago, my mother died. It was just after midnight on a Friday.

On Thursday morning, at 5:30 am, hospice called and said that she wouldn't last more than a few hours, and we should get there asap. So, I woke Roseanne and Elisabeth, and we trundled off to hospice house. Mom was rousable, but with a bit of difficulty. I remember thinking to myself - this is it - this is the last day I will have my mother to hold and to love. When we got there, she was rousable, but with a bit of difficulty. I told her I was there, that I loved her, and that I would stay with her. I must have told her that a million times that day.

As the day progressed, I told Suzanne, a friend and chaplain at Hospice House, that I wanted my mother's RC priest to attend, and I don't know how she did it, but she got his sorry ass to leave his rectory and come to Hospice House. He stayed about five or ten minutes, and rotely recited an empty little prayer, and then he left, all the while saying - she's ready, she's ready. But she wasn't ready - I knew that because she was doing what she had always said she'd do - scratch and claw to stay and go down fighting. What a clueless ass.


My pastor called me and asked if I needed him to come, and I said I did. He was great - he stayed for about an hour and a half, just talking. And then he prayed for my mother. She opened her eyes and looked straight at him while he was praying. He placed his hands on her head and whispered in her ear, she closed her eyes, he made the sign of the cross on her head, she breathed a little easier. He looked at me and I understood. Thank you, Fr. James, with all of my heart.

Noon came and went, and late afternoon, and suppertime, and then it was about 7 pm, and Elisabeth was about ready to collapse. I didn't know what to do - so I called Doc and Mari and they came to the hospice with wine and snacks and sandwiches for Ro and me, stopped by our house to let Puccini out, and then they took the Elisabeth and Poochie back to their house. Elisabeth just couldn't handle it any more - she was ready to break.

By about 10:30 pm, the hospice people had told me a number of times that some people have to be alone to let themselves die, and that they hold on for their loved ones who are keeping the vigil. Finally I was convinced that I should go, and I told Mom that I was going. I felt awful saying that, and I could see that she understood me and was a little agitated. I left the room for about half an hour - I really needed that break. Ro and I walked around the building, and we sat in a little waiting room for a few minutes, but I couldn't stand letting my mother be alone any longer, so Ro and I went back into the room with her. When I told her that I was back, she became very calm.

The lights were dim, and the door was closed for privacy by the staff. About midnight, Ro asked me if I could see the smoke near the door in the upper corner of the room. I couldn't see anything, but she insisted that smoke was coming into the room and hovering in the upper corner. I couldn't see anything and I couldn't smell any smoke either...then I said to her, "Its probably your mother come to get mine." And so it was. My mother's eyes opened and she looked intently at the smoke, then she closed her eyes. The time between each breath became longer. I laid my head on the bed - I was so exhausted - and I held my mother's hand, though I'm sure she couldn't feel her extremities by that point. Roseanne dozed for a few minutes - she was exhausted too. Then I realized that the next breath didn't happen when it should have. I held my mother in my arms and told her I loved her and goodbye, and then I whispered the prayer for the dead in her ear:

"With the spirits of the Righteous made perfect, give rest unto the soul of Thy handmaiden Beatrice, O Savior, and preserve it in that life of blessedness which is with Thee, O Thou who lovest mankind. In the place of Thy rest, O Lord, where all the saints repose, give rest also to the soul of thy handmaid Beatrice, for Thou only lovest mankind."

And then, she was gone. I said to Roseanne, "Ro, I think she's gone." Ro cried and I continued to hold my mother in my arms. And then Ro said that the smoke was gone.

I have read that the last faculty to go is hearing. I hope that's true because then the last earthly words Mom heard were that I loved her and me praying her into heaven.

What would I have done in those days without Roseanne? All my life, she has loved me and been there for me. I can never repay her.

What would I have done without Fr. James throughout that whole last year? And especially that last day - he came to Hospice House as much to help me as to help my mother - and that last prayer.... thank you again, Fr. James.

And thank you to Doc and Mari for selflessly coming at a moment's notice and taking my daughter and my doggie in.

When my father dies, it will most likely not be like this at all - it will probably be more sudden, and chances are that the nursing home will not call me so early in the process. But, I won't let my father be alone, or with strangers when he dies, even if he thinks *I* am a stranger. And I will pray the same prayer in his ear.

Someday I will die, and I hope my daughter will do the same for me.