Remembering

When I learned Broken Vessels would be published, I decided to dedicate it to my mother. By the time I was able to show her the dedication, she no longer remembered me, and had no idea what I was talking about.

The funny thing about dedicating the book to Mom is that she really didn’t like it all that much. Well, she didn’t like the mother in the book. She looked at me very suspiciously, wanting to know if she was the model for Louise’s character. For the most part she wasn’t, but there were a few things that I took from my growing up years and inserted into the book. Needless to say, I never shared that with Mom. She always encouraged my writing and was very proud that I was going after my dream. I only wish she could have enjoyed the final product.

Her journey in the nursing home lasted fifteen months. Though her mind was going, her vitals remained strong. Mom’s feistiness carried her through the toughest days, but her determination to get out of her wheelchair and out of “that place,” caused her to fall on more than one occasion. Amazingly, she never incurred more than a bump or skin tear.

We were told on Sunday, November 18^th that Mom was in the active dying process. Two days later, at 9:45 in the morning, she took her final breath. I’m grateful Dad and I could be there with her, holding her hands.

Shortly before she passed away, Mom opened her eyes wide, and looked heavenward. I will one day see what she saw. Until then, I will remember the mother who raised me and loved me; the mother who lost her own mother when she was only twelve.

My relationship with my parents has never been perfect. In truth, things got a little tense in the months leading up to Mom being placed in the nursing home. It could have gone either way, but God used Mom’s illness to bring us closer together as a family—physically, emotionally and spiritually. I will forever be grateful.