Mother’s Day (late because it was swallowed by cyberspace and I just found it again…)
I survived Mother's Day….Usually Mother's Day sucks because I don't have a mom to do anything for or even a grave to visit. Sure, I have women in my life who have filled the mother role for me since my mom died. Heck, there's even one who I call "Mom." But, all day long, it's not the same. I think of all the times I had the chance to spend time with her, but had to run off to some event or function instead. Now, I'd give anything to just spend another minute with her. Just to hear her say my name. That is one of my most precious memories now, you know? After my mom had her stroke, she was in a coma for a while. After she regained conciousness, the doctors said she would never walk, talk or eat again. But, after about 2-3 days, she was making these noises that were more than just moans and groans. They sounded like she was trying to say something. So, one day, I decided to ask her some simple questions, in the hope that she would respond. She did! I asked her who I was. She said (croaked would probably be more descriptive here), "Mary." I asked her who she was and she answered, "Elizabeth." Knowing that only the doctors would have called her that, I asked her what everyone called her and she replied, "Betty." Yes! My mom was still in there somewhere. Pressing on, I asked her what my nickname for her was, and she answered (correctly), "Old Fart." (There is a long story behind that one that involved flatulence and wrestling – but I shall spare you that moment). I asked what her nickname for me was, and she replied, "Young Fart." (Again, long story involving flatulence…I shall, again, spare you the details.) For a while after, she was able to answer "Yes" or "No" questions and give short, one word answers to simple questions…but my one of favorite moments will always be hearing her say my name.
Another precious memory I have, and a moment I was privileged to witness, was the moment she accepted Christ. It was during a time of severe respiratory distress, and Major Townsend had come up to the hospital, at my request, to help me through this tough time and to pray for my mom. At one point, he asked her if she wanted to accept Christ and she squeezed his hand. He then prayed the Sinner's Prayer with her, and I could tell, from the look in her eyes, that she truly believed. One part of my heart says, if only she had done that sooner…but the other part says at least had opportunity to choose before she passed. That moment is my most treasured memory from that time.
I say I lost my mom three times, but the last time, I gained her back. The first time was when I was 10 and she had her first stroke. The mom that came home from the hospital wasn't the same mommy who went in. True, it was the same body, although drastically different, but her personality and spirit were different – crushed, almost, it seemed. The second time I lost her was when she had her second stroke. Third time, of course, was when she passed away. But, that time, I gained her back because I'll be reunited with her one day in Glory…I can't wait for that day…