Rush of Feeling

There is a weird nether land that exists in the realm of loss.

I am well-acquainted with sorrow and loss, though the process of grief seems to morph each time I meet it.

At moments I am struck by knowing I won’t have my mom around, at moments I am thrilled for her to meet Jesus soon. It is uncanny to have a real expectation of death, imminent.

We have the same hospice nurse that helped with my dad 3 years ago. She is a honey. We all like her very much, and yesterday she prepped us for the last days of mom’s earthly life.

This process of death is a steady path. It seems slow, then remarkably quick overall. Does that make sense?

If you walk the path you may understand.

My family and I see the progression, and it is evident in the way my mom reacts to us, even by the hour, by the night. Death is a part of living, and it happens in so many different ways, but it always carries a mystery for me.

And at times we are overwhelmed by that mystery and feel the most uncontrollable emotion. It is a rush of feeling.

But for the most part, each day has its tasks and its distractions. I am blessed to be a teacher with an open summer time, so my time is only for this “season” of loss.

God is gracious to me.

Also, my brother and sister-in-law have sacrificed their New York life for this time of caring. They are such dedicated helpers! Bearing the burden of hospice care at home together has been truly lightened.

Mom is relatively easy to care for at this stage. She sleeps and her needs are simple. We make sure she is taking her pain medication. Nausea seems to be the worst of her symptoms, (colon cancer), and controlling that is paramount. It is clear that each time she awakens there is significant change in her reactions.

She loved having visitors and she remembered many wonderful things with them. My aunt came and sat with her for two whole days! They had a lovely time.

Church family has kept us supplied with treats and lunches, prayer and sweet thoughts. What a privilege to have been a part of such a wonderful church all these decades! We are so blessed.

Because she is mostly sleeping now the visits are fewer and much, much shorter. Prayers are always welcomed.

I play a song, a hymn, read a devotional, read a passage of Scripture. These things comfort her. She just likes having one of us sit with her.

Waiting for death.

At the hospital one of the nurses remarked that the television wasn’t on in her room, and that was unusual.

When the mind is full of quiet peace there is not a need for worldly noise.

I remember when my grandma passed away in a hospice in south Minneapolis, one of my sons and I visited her on her last day. She kept pointing up at the ceiling, a most joyful expression on her face, seeming to ask us if we could see what she was seeing….

My sweet son, about 10 years old at the time, nodded kindly to her, “Yes, Grandma,” he said, reassuringly. Even at that young age he knew how to comfort!

We both were pretty convinced she was seeing something supernatural, even if it may have been termed “hallucination.”

I wonder when my mom will see the veil lift between this world and the eternal one. Clearly those of us who die with Jesus in our hearts have deep, deep comfort and joy. Peace that passes all understanding.

So this mysterious transformation is still before us, and it is probably very soon.

In the meantime we all can expect and hope for Christ’s return for His bride, the Harpazo. The Rapture of the church. Perhaps Today?

This, too, is an imminent event, and could precede even my mom’s death!

Will keep you all in the loop.

MARANATHA!