My mother passed away. Her doctor said things that reassured us.
Sunday, “Looks like she has made this determination for herself.” I like this empowering phrase. Perhaps her body had worn out but she still had power over her reactions.
Monday, “All reasonable measures have been taken.” No more tests to take. No assessments to make a difference. No procedures to induce.
Monday, “We will implement comfort care.” No need to worry her with blood pressure checks.
I sat with my mother. Friends and family came to visit her. Then, he breathed her last breath quietly and peacefully. I expected her to take in another breath but it never happened.
Do I wish her to take another breath?
No, not in the condition that her body was in. I am relieved that she is no longer hindered by eyes that cannot see and ears that cannot hear. How sudden it feels. Yet, we had so many near misses: broken hips, falls, cancer, before this pneumonia. Her great grandson Jet said, “Granma won’t be sick and broken anymore.”
And it is true—her hope is our hope and the faith she left us to believe that she is in a better place. In her own words, this is how she wants to be remembered: I hope that I can leave you with a good memory that I am the person I claim to be, that I am honest, truthful and that I love you. I want you to remember that I love the LORD, and that He has always blessed me and stayed with me all these years, and He will lead and guide you too. I want all of my family and friends to know the LORD.
Her legacy is that God is good and hears our prayers. This is good to know. If your Mom is still with you, you still have time to celebrate her life.
Breathe with her.
