TravelGal
03-30-15, 09:27 PM
About 30 minutes ago, my beautiful, wonderful, caring, funny, creative Mom finally met her Lord for all eternity. They had met before, when she was so terribly ill when I was a child, so she knew with certainly those things the rest of us believe but do not know. She literally passed away, calmly and in no pain. I will be flying to Florida tomorrow. There will be a memorial service in a few weeks.
I was not with her when she died because I had been here in California for 10 days, nursing TravelGuy back to health from a bout of pneumonia. Just before I left Florida, I wrote the piece below for her. It was obvious what was happening and it gave me solace to understand why it was taking so long. The part I will always remember is that just yesterday TravelGuy was strong enough to get out of bed. Somehow, in the cosmos, she knew that--that it was okay that I leave him now for a while
On the Shore
We rest here by the water’s edge, my mother and I. It has been a long journey of 101 years for her. There have been many incredible mountain tops and, literally, the valley of death. All experienced and overcome with joy and love and, above all, a knowledge that God is with us in our Savior Jesus Christ.
We rest here now, watching the water lap at the shore. Wondering, waiting. For what, I muse. As the days pass, I see others making their way along the shore. They are coming. Coming to her. Coming to pay her homage. In groups or ones and twos, they come daily. She greets them and smiles slightly. It is all she can manage now. They pour out their love and affection, returning the love she has spread so generously for so many years. They tell me how honored they are just be in her presence. “She is different,” they say, “She is special.” I know that, having been her daughter for all these years.
She is not dying. Not now. Not yet. Yet the people come. They know her days must of necessity be numbered. They want to see her. To be with her for a few minutes. To pray for her and with her. We are the luckiest people on earth.
I was not with her when she died because I had been here in California for 10 days, nursing TravelGuy back to health from a bout of pneumonia. Just before I left Florida, I wrote the piece below for her. It was obvious what was happening and it gave me solace to understand why it was taking so long. The part I will always remember is that just yesterday TravelGuy was strong enough to get out of bed. Somehow, in the cosmos, she knew that--that it was okay that I leave him now for a while
On the Shore
We rest here by the water’s edge, my mother and I. It has been a long journey of 101 years for her. There have been many incredible mountain tops and, literally, the valley of death. All experienced and overcome with joy and love and, above all, a knowledge that God is with us in our Savior Jesus Christ.
We rest here now, watching the water lap at the shore. Wondering, waiting. For what, I muse. As the days pass, I see others making their way along the shore. They are coming. Coming to her. Coming to pay her homage. In groups or ones and twos, they come daily. She greets them and smiles slightly. It is all she can manage now. They pour out their love and affection, returning the love she has spread so generously for so many years. They tell me how honored they are just be in her presence. “She is different,” they say, “She is special.” I know that, having been her daughter for all these years.
She is not dying. Not now. Not yet. Yet the people come. They know her days must of necessity be numbered. They want to see her. To be with her for a few minutes. To pray for her and with her. We are the luckiest people on earth.