Passing of Time

Sunday, December 7 will be two years since my mother passed away.  She died of the dreaded “C” word. She had esophageal cancer and liver cancer. It was a brutal one, two punch to her tiny body.
My mom aka toward the end of her life as the momma, mostly because she couldn’t argue being called that. We had a tumultuous relationship.  We were not best friends, shopping pals, or share your souls with one another. We went from when I was 14 to 19 with basically no contact. Not until I was pregnant with my first pregnancy did we call a semi truce. That pregnancy ended in a miscarriage and she tried to be comforting but she did not know how.
When my son,Patrick was born he helped heal more wounds. She gave him the nickname Crackit, as that is how he said Patrick.  She loved her grandbabies and later on her great grandson. She was a better grandma than mother.
She was a hard working woman who had raised three children on her own until I was 8 years old.  She had a difficult childhood giving a child up for adoption at 14 and keeping me at 17. She worked one job her entire life and that was at the family funeral home. She was an apprentice embalmer/apprentice funeral director/secretary and bookkeeper.
She could cuss like a drunken sailor and profanity was the norm and not the exception. She got that from her mother.  She was a homebody and didn’t have a lot of friends.  She put her husbands needs before all else and did almost everything for him and around  the house .  It was so bad we had to teach my step-dad how to cook, how to do the banking on line, how to lay out his meds and a few other things.
She would often call me to talk or ask the strangest questions.  She was so angry when I took a church 90 miles away from home.  Can you imagine the reaction when we told her we were going to move to Missouri for our ministry?  The day we pulled out she actually cried.
We bacame closer with the distance, ironically.  We would Skype with the grandbaby. I would try to fly out once a year and would spend time with her. Usually driving her to Walmart.
When the cancer diagnosis came, it was devestating. Stage 4 and not many treatment options. I flew out to help get things in order before it got to bad. In October we drove out and at that time she ended up in the ICU due to an embolism. I spent 3 days in the ICU with her and was able to talk to her and tell her I loved her. I tried to pray with her but she was so angry at God.
She had been moved to a regular hospital room when we had to begin the drive back to Missouri. Leaving her was so hard because I knew that would be my last time.
In a role reversal I now was the one calling and checking. Encouraging at times, chiding her at others and sometimes begging her to take the meds, to drink or eat. She could not always talk. We Skyped with her coherent and mom-like 2 years ago today, December 4, 2012.
On December 7, my grandson’s mom called me to say her breathing had changed. She, my oldest son and my step-dad were there.  They put me on Skype and set the laptop on the bed with her. I stayed with her that day until she passed; talking to her, talking to my family.  Sadly, her passing was not peaceful. She hemmorhaged at the end.  My warrior son who has seen 3 tours of war, quickly turned the laptop away so I would not see and kept his grandfather out of the room while he cleaned her up with the help of his ex.
We did not have her memorial service until July 1, 2013 and I officiated that service. That was my final gift to her. I wear a celtic cross with her ashes that has a heart and says Momma.
I miss her. I wish she would have been here during the strokes or to ask those questions women have about the change or to meet her granddaughter Rose and to know Brandon under better circumstances.
I use to hate all the constant phone calls and now I wish I could hear them again. Cherish life,  cherish family, make sure you say I love you, I am proud of you, I miss you because there may not be a next day.
I learned from her what not to be  and what to be. She was the momma and I miss her.  I pray that near the end she had listened and felt the safety of God.

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Author:

I am a wife, mother, and pastor. We moved from Bowling Green, Missouri to Idaho Falls in 2016. I am a native of Eastern Washington state. In 2013 I had 2 strokes in 8 days and this is my journey of faith, family and health. I believe no matter what happens in your life that God can use it for His glory.

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