Mother's Graduation Day

 

“How much longer will mom will have to go on?” I wondered as I dug out in my pond on Thursday morning, June 3^rd, 2010. “She's so tired. I wish she could just move on.” Then I felt guilty for wishing my mother could die.

“But I don't want her to die,” I told myself sternly. “I just don't want her to keep on hurting.”

I couldn't help remembering the scene in the movie, “Shadow Lands,” were C. S. Elliott's wife told him she was in too much pain and he had to let her go, and he told her he didn't know how. Did I know how to let mom go? Did she know how to die?

When I was a little girl mother had told me how my great-grandmother, her Mormor, passed away.

“I remember every night Mormor praying that she would be able to die peacefully,” mother had told me. “After Morfar, my grandfather, died, my sisters and I took turns sleeping at Mormor's house so she wouldn't have to be alone at night. One night Aunt Ejvor stayed with her, but in the morning Mormor asked her to go home and get mom, because she wasn't feeling good. I went with mom to see how Mormor was doing. She was still in bed, so we sat next to her to visit.

“We talked for a little while, then somebody said something funny, and Mormor laughed, then she just died. Just like she had prayed for.”

I wished mom could go like that, or like her own mother. My Grandma Johnson had turned one hundred years old two months before she passed away. She lived by herself in her own house until the last few months when her health gave way and she moved in with my cousin's family. The morning she died, a hospice nurse had been over to check on her. “This is the end,” she told my mom and her two sisters. Grandma seemed to be in a sort of coma, but they sat with her all morning until finally mom sent Aunt Amy and Aunt Ejvor home to take care of things they needed to do with their families.

“The hospice nurse is coming back this evening to give mom a bath,” mother reminded her sisters. “I just bet mom won't go until after that. You know how she's never gone anywhere without first fixing her hair and getting dressed up.”

The hospice nurse came half an hour early that afternoon. She bathed grandma and dressed her in a clean, blue nightgown. After she left mother remembered how much grandma enjoyed having her daughters brush her hair when she was sick, so mom picked up the brush and began to softly stroke grandma's hair. Grandma seemed to relax, she took a breath, and then she was gone. Just like that. Certainly mom deserved to die as sweetly.

I got home from digging in my pond about 10:00. Mom told me she was feeling kind of dizzy, and didn't think she would get up yet, so I worked around the yard, mowing the lawns and watering plants. At 12:30 I got her some lunch and took it in to her bedroom.

“I think I'll just go back to bed instead of sitting in my chair,” mom decided after I'd helped her into the bathroom.

Moe left about that same time to drive down to the Valley. He wanted to check on his sister, LaKay. It had been two weeks since their father died, and it was hard on her being all alone, and he needed to bring Kami, our fifteen year-old-daughter, home.

I went in to see how mom was doing about 12:45. Our Visiting Teachers were coming at 1:00, but I told her not to worry about getting up. Each woman in our church is assigned two women to watch over them, and they normally visit once a month. My sister, Linda, who lived across the street from us, and mom and I had the same visiting teachers, and they often visited all of us at the same time.

“Maybe I won't come out to visit them this time,” mom agreed tiredly. “But get the air freshener from my bathroom and spray it around in here, please, just in case they decide to peek in on me and say say hi. I'm afraid my bedroom doesn't smell very good.” That was just like mom. Even when she was deathly ill she was worrying about making things nice and comfortable for other people.

Sister Weir and Sister Breedlove came right at 1:00, and they did go back to mom's room for a second to see her. Then Linda and I visited with them in the front room for half an hour or so.

“I think I heard your mom calling,” Sister Breedlove interrupted our visit, so I went back to check on mom while Linda said our goodbyes and they left.

“How are you doing mom?” I asked when I walked into her bedroom.

“I'm starting to hurt again,” she moaned softly. “Would you please get me some pain medicine?”

I got one of the pills from mom's bedside table, and putting my hand behind her head I lifted it up a so she could swallow some water with the pill. Almost immediately, though, the exertion and medicine made her stomach upset, and she began to throw up. Holding mom's head with one hand and the garbage can with the other, I helped mom lean over the side of the bed while she was sick, but then she passed out. That happened every time mom overexerted herself, so I didn't really worry. I just gently laid mom's head back on the pillow and wiped her mouth and chin with a Kleenex, waiting for her to come to.

Linda came in a couple of minutes later, and we sat by mom, but this time the minutes ticked by without her regaining consciousness.

“I wonder if she is going to come out of it this time?” I finally began to wonder after five minutes or so.

“I'm going to call Sharon,” Linda decided. Sharon was our youngest sister, and she also lived in Snowflake.

“She's not here,” Linda told me after talking to Sharon on her cell phone. “She's down in the Valley.”

“Oh no,” I worried. “She's going to feel awful if mom passes away now!”

Soon after that we heard the front door open, and footsteps coming down the hall. It was Sharon's husband, Colton.

“Sharon called me,” he explained as he hurried over to mom's bed.

“I'm so glad she did,” I told him. “Moe's on his way down to Valley.”

“And Alan's at work,” Linda added, “and mom needs a blessing. Would you give her one, please?”

Colton placed his hands on mother's head, and through the power of the Priesthood which he held, gave her the sweetest blessing.

After that, Linda sat back down on one side of the bed and I sat on the other, holding mom's hand. She was so peaceful, no struggling or harsh breathing, like the other times she had passed out. She just lay there peacefully on her bed, and silently slipped away.

I'm not a very good nurse, but when it seemed like she wasn't breathing anymore, I felt for her pulse on her wrist. I sure thought I could still feel a faint pulse, but Linda called Alan and when he got there he told us that mom was gone. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.

Afterward, I felt kind of bad. I didn't have time to cry or grieve or anything, it was just so sweet and simple. I wanted to listen and feel dad and grandma and grandpa Johnson, but Linda and Colton and I were all trying to figure out what we should do, and then Alan came and it was just OK.

We needed to call my brothers and sisters right away, so there really wasn't time to sit and reflect and feel the spirit or anything. We made the calls, then I called the kids. The hardest one was calling Kami. I knew she was going to be so sad, she and grandma had a very special relationship, and I was worried about her not being there to say goodby.

I also felt bad that Moe wasn't there to say goodby, or to just give me support. Actually, I felt pretty alone when I came to think about it, but there was a special peace which can only come from God, and I was OK. Krissi, my thirteen-year-old, was upstairs through the whole thing, and I was glad at least one of my children was there with me.

A funny thing happened after we'd made all the phone calls and arrangements and were waiting in mom's room for the people from the mortuary to come. The phone rang, and it was Brother Christensen, our Home Teacher. Just like the women in our church have sisters assigned to watch out for them, every family is also assigned two men to be their Home Teachers. They also visit monthly and keep an eye on us. Our home teacher was also our town's postmaster.

“Gale, did you put some letters in the mail today?” he asked when I answered the phone.

“Yes, I guess I did,” I told him, a little taken back. I'd put some birthday cards for my daughter and granddaughter on the table that morning and asked Krissi to get some stamps from upstairs and put them in the mail box for me, but so much had happened in the meantime I could hardly remember doing that.

“I thought they must be from you,” he continued. “They had your return address on them, but you only put on one cent stamps. I added some more and mailed them for you.”

I had to laugh. I guess Krissi must have picked up the one cent stamps instead of the first class ones. Only in Snowflake would the postmaster call you personally to see if you made a mistake, and only in Snowflake would he put the extra stamps on for you and sent the mail on anyway. At any rate, it gave me a chance to tell Brother Christensen about mother, and it was good to have his support and love.

After they took away mom's body and we finished making our phone calls it was awfully quiet at our house. When Linda went home and just Krissi and I were left we didn't quite know what to do with ourselves. I knew that soon life would catch up with us, but that night the house was too quiet. It took me awhile, but I finally realized that one reason it felt so wrong was because mom's oxygen machine was shut off, for the first time in a year and a half. Silence may be golden, but I missed the noise that night. Krissi and I finally settled down in mom's room and watched one of the Harry Potter movies together until it was time to go to bed, I guess in honor of mother. She had loved those books, and we had enjoyed discussing them and watching the movies together for years. In a way, it seemed like an appropriate way to celebrate mother's graduation day, and it helped to comfort both of us.

One last thing I did before going to bed that night. I knelt down and thanked the Lord for my mother, and for taking her home so easily. I missed mom, but I was glad she didn't have to suffer anymore. Heavenly Father had so kind, to all of us, and I couldn't help smile at the reunion she and dad and all of her family must have been having on the other side of the veil that night.