To my Mom in Heaven
It’s been almost four years since you’ve been gone. It seems like yesterday and forever at the same time. I’d give anything to see you one more time. I find comfort in knowing you are no longer suffering, but I miss you still the same.
You’d be so proud of your little angel. She’s fifteen now. She has a lot of good friends, does well in school…she’s on the honor roll, and attends two different youth groups. One at church and another with some friends from school. She’s even learning to drive! She’s a teenager though, and sometimes her sassy mouth and eye rolls are hard to handle. You always wished I’d have a daughter just like me someday. You got your wish and I’m sure that if God lets you look down and peak in on our lives, it makes you smile just a little.
I’m so happy that you knew who she was up until the end of your journey. It would have devastated her little heart if you looked at her and didn’t know who she was. She was Grandma’s girl. Before you lost the ability to speak, one of the last things you said to her was, “there’s my angel”! She remembers that.
You weren’t always sure who I was. Some days you’d look at me like you knew me, but you weren’t sure HOW you knew me. Others, I’d walk into your room and you’d say, “there’s my baby”! It broke my heart the first time you didn’t know I was your daughter, but I understood why and that it must have been so hard for you to try to figure things out, but not be able to. It was harder for Dad and K, because you never seemed to know how you knew them. They were the ones you’d get angriest with when you were confused.
Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s? Which was worse? To be trapped in your own mind or trapped in your body and not have control over either. It doesn’t seem fair, but God is in control and he had his reasons.
You were so strong and held on longer than we thought possible. Your body wasted away. At your passing, you only weighed 68 pounds. The hospice nurse told us that even though you couldn’t talk, you could still hear and that we should tell you it was okay to let go and that we would be fine.
I took my turn alone with you and told you everything I needed to say. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I know you heard me because you shook your head and a tear ran down your cheek. My only regret is that I wish I had told you those things long before that moment.
When the end came, you were surrounded by your family. Your husband, your children, and siblings. I told you I’d hold your hand until Jesus came and when he did, you should let go of mine and take his. You did…and after many hours, we watched you take your last breaths and you were gone. It was agonizing to watch because your passing did not come swiftly.
Dad has always been so impatient, and when you were diagnosed I was worried he would become frustrated with you as time went on. He didn’t. He took such good care of you and never once complained or became frustrated. He finally remodeled the kitchen like you had always wanted to do. He has said you would have loved it and he wished he had done it sooner….for you.
K has had the hardest time. She was the one you took your frustrations out on the most, but she understands and knows you had no control over it. She loves and misses you so much and it’s hard for her not to cry when we talk about you.
I’m not sure why God would let you linger in the condition you were in to endure so much suffering. I was mad at Him for awhile because of it, but I’ve made my peace with Him. You were always so faithful to Him and I couldn’t understand why he let you suffer for so long, but it was His will. Maybe because it would make it easier for us to let you go. I don’t know.
We all love and miss you so much, and as much as we wish you were still here, we’d never want you to come back to endure the suffering you did in the last years of your life. Not a day goes by that we don’t think of you and I work so hard to be the woman you raised me to be. When I say my prayers, I ask God to tell you that we love you and miss you. I believe He does.
We are all doing the best we can without you. You raised me with morals in a loving, Christian home and even though I make mistakes, because of you, I know where my salvation lies. You were the best mother you could have possibly been and the memories I have of you will sustain me until we meet again.
I know when my time comes, you will be waiting for me at the gates of Heaven with all of those who have gone before me….and you will be pushing them all out of the way so that you can get to me first, give me a hug, and welcome me home.