Sixteen years ago tomorrow, November 5, 1995 our mom died. I try to catch myself so that I don’t say our mom died of pancreatic cancer, mom lived with pancreatic cancer, in many ways those nine months were her finest teaching moments.
Mom lived with us in our little house in Mt. Airy, so caring for her through her journey was seamless. My brothers were our heroes, each one shouldering a particular task, each one completely selfless in their donation of themselves, their time, their good cheer.
I learned much from my mom, watching her endure pain, chemo, and radiation. No one went unnoticed by her, no one went away without a thank you, be it nurse or maintenance crew, janitor or technician, she always thanked them. I was humbled by her graciousness for there were some days where I could have benefited from having a choke collar around me. I so desperately wanted them to stop her pain and grew impatient with the endless questions about her pain level. She took great delight in making those around her smile. She went for daily radiation for weeks and would carefully match her outfits every day right down to her socks because it made the folks in radiation smile.
The chemo and radiation shrank the tumor a bit and slowed its progress and we squeezed in as much living as we could that summer. By September we knew the tumors were growing and spreading again. We started a little journal to keep medications and dosing straight, it weaves a diary of her last weeks. I remember very clearly mom’s last 18 days. She had started to vomit blood and there was precious little we could do for her except hold her, the vomiting eventually eased, but from that day we kept a 24 hour vigil with her.
As a person is transitioning from this life to the next, they need a lot of quiet, there is an enormous amount of interior work being done, a very active dialogue takes place between God and His child. I remember mom saying so clearly one quiet afternoon a single word, “yes.” We had not been in conversation and I had the sense that I had been allowed to eavesdrop in on a question posed to her by Christ. Her suffering those last 18 days was intense. One night I was sitting with her and watching her face, her eyes turned to me and they were the eyes of Christ on the cross, just pure love in her suffering, glazed with pain…but no incrimination’s, no “why me,” no anger, just those beautiful eyes. The gaze of the beloved.
Mom was close to death on Friday, November 3rd. I had my head tucked close to hers and I heard her say “never has a prayer been answered so swiftly or so sweetly.” We had a houseful of company and my mother was too much of lady to die when there were guests in the house. Her breathing grew regular again and she had a small smile, death retreated.
Sunday came and Doug had taken the boys to the office with him, we were just changing the “watch.” Ken had spent the night in the chair by her bedside, Joel had gone over to open the store, and I was preparing to keep the next watch. I was mother hen, tucking her in, checking her feet and I noticed purple mottling on her legs and I knew. I went and got Ken, and called Joel to come over from the store. She looked up and saw who was there and silently nodded, like she was saying yes again, it was time. And we began our last watch together, one at each side, one holding her feet and the battle commenced. For it was a hard death, mom labored for over three hours in the final throes of life, we were powerless to help, we could only hold her…but we were not alone, she was not left alone…my brother exclaimed at one point that there were angels in the room and there were, for I believe they were sent to help her. Mom died at 3:15 in the afternoon, and the room was shot through with sparkles of light. I remember feeling betrayed though, even with the signs of heaven, it was a hard death, there was no peace, she suffered to the end. There was no gentle sighing and a final breath, no sweetness of expression.
We sat for a few moments, holding her…sweet, gentle soul…tired, beaten body. And then of course practicality takes over and you start the necessary phone calls. Hospice arrived and our kind nurse asked if I would like to help her wash mom’s body, it had been a very hard death. I said yes, what an honor and privilege to wash and care for that body that gave me life. We knew mom had bed sores, her skin had become like tissue paper, but I will never forget the sight of the bed sores that became visible after her death, like whiplashes across her lower back, and I thought again of the crucified Christ and how much my mother had entered into His suffering.
I heard her “fiat,” her yes to her Beloved when He asked her to join Him on Calvary. Looking back you could feel the redemptive work going on in that room, lying so weak and yet offering a precious gift to God, the gift of herself. I came to understand this as I read Blessed John Paul II Apostolic Letter, Salvifici Doloris, given at Lourdes on February 11, 1984. Below are just a few excerpts from one of the most beautiful letters I have ever read, for it opened the door to what we had been invited to witness.
In the Cross of Christ not only is the Redemption accomplished through suffering, but also human suffering itself has been redeemed,…. In bringing about the Redemption through suffering, Christ has also raised human suffering to the level of the Redemption. Thus each man, in his suffering, can also become a sharer in the redemptive suffering of Christ.
Our eldest brother who could not be with us during mom’s final days, had been far, far from the church for 39 years. He returned to the church Divine Mercy Sunday of 2003 after making his first confession in nearly 40 years. He died two years later at the age of 57. Her gift and prayer accepted. I believe that his return to the church is not the only fruit of my mother’s final gift to her family, for God in His mercy takes our offerings and provides an abundance, overflowing return, so much that no earthly cup could ever contain them.
“But the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them.
They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead: and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace.
For if before men, indeed, they be punished, yet is their hope full of immortality; chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed, because God tried them and found them worthy of Himself.
As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to Himself.
In the time of their visitation they shall shine, and shall dart about as sparks through stubble; they shall judge nations and rule over people, and the Lord shall be their King forever.
Those who trust in Him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with Him in love; because grace and mercy are with His holy ones and his care is with His elect.
Wisdom Chapter 3 1-9
Réquiem ætérnam dona eis, Dómine,
et lux perpétua lúceat eis.
Requiéscant in pace. Amen.
You are so gifted. When my mom was going thru her own suffering with cancer..see mentioned to me that during her radiation visits see could see “twikling lights” arund her..she thought they were angels, I thought she was mistaken. When I heard this Scripture passage at Deacon Mike’s funeral, it dawned on me that she was right afterall. I thank god for your mother, because she gave us you….much love..Liz