Mom, my angel, my hero. You and Me kid…
I find myself reminiscing over the history of years that I spent with the person who’s known me longer than anyone on this earth. Sadly, I’ve reminisced more about our relationship in the past 3 months than many years combined. There’s no doubt in my mind that if the world had more You in it – this would be a much better place.
Most people will never know how much pain, loss, and suffering you’ve endured over the course of your life because you didn’t really let them see it. I think of how important it has always been to you to make sure the feelings of others were more important than your own and how that beacon of positivity and light always shined bright. I wonder how many people’s days started off gloomy but ended sunny just because of you.
You never saw a reason to be anything other than a friend and didn’t judge a person on anything other than the potential beauty they had inside regardless of their outward demeanor.
A loyal friend, a bridge in conflict, a smile, a hug, and always tears in joy, sorrow, and comfort.
My heart is forever broken and understandably easy for me to be so sad; I know how lucky I’ve been to have you for so long and what I’ve lost (for now).
I don’t know why this happened to you and I’m sure like most never thought it would happen to my mother. But over the past few weeks watching bedside as you battle with grace and watching the nurses who recognize how you’re treating them with kindness even during your discomfort and pain. Even if they didn’t know you or can’t afford to become emotionally attached – they stopped for a minute because I think they saw the true beauty of how people can and should be.
Maybe a lasting impression for them to keep their passion for nursing and maybe a nudge for others that might now understand what genuine love and appreciation looks like.
It’s late now as I’m writing this in the lobby and I thought I’ve already lost you twice this week. You’re still fighting because we made a deal. I know it’s hard and I know you’re scared because you’ve told me. There’s a welcome mat laid out for you with everyone you’ve loved waiting beside Jesus but selfishly I’m still asking you to fight. We talked earlier this morning and agreed on who’s really in control and I’ll forever remember that smile. I promised you no more chemo and that we’re trying our best to get you home for a day, a week, or even an hour, it didn’t matter. I’m so proud of how hard you’ve fought, and I ask for your forgiveness if it’s been too much.
I know he’s calling and needs you more than we do but I don’t know why; someday that will be clear. As discussed, many times over the past few weeks, we both know where you’re going. Yes, it’s sooner than we thought for sure, but we don’t know how God keeps time. I don’t know exactly when but I will see you again and I can’t wait. I love you mom.
