Remembering Mom 9-23-08

When Mom was in the Alzheimer's wing at Oklahoma Christian Home, on Boulevard, near Danforth in Edmond, she was near the end of her life, but was still able to walk. Paula and I had always gone to the home every time we had the chance, and were almost always there for the supper hour. We would take Mom for short walks either before or after dinner, and then help Mom with her dinner, trying to encourage her to eat while telling her about the events of the day, and asking about her day. We had a little routine. After dinner, we would walk Mom back to her room and visit with her a while and then we would help her out in the bathroom. Mom had passed the point of being modest, since her mind was slipping. She was like a little child. So tiny, so frail, so sweet. Late one afternoon after supper we were standing at the window in her room, looking out at all the flowers that cooler weather had not taken from us. Mom always loved looking out her window, so Paula and I had planted many hundreds of jonquils, tulips, cannas, irises and hundreds of plants in the raised beds. Mom enjoyed them, and on more than one occasion, had 'helped' us plant things in the raised beds. Mom had loved her flowers all her life. She still loved getting her hands in the moist dirt and helping us. It was fun, seeing how much she enjoyed helping out.

Mom stood there, in the fading light and noticed the little plastic hummingbirds, with their little wings going around in opposite directions. She remarked: "My, aren't they tame!...they never leave! I think they like me!" Then Mom came out with: "I wonder if hummingbirds would like to go to church." As I stood behind Mom, tears came to my eyes. The little Mama that had loved me all my life was slipping away from me. We made our way to the bathroom, for the little before-bedtime-ritual of going to the bathroom, washing her hands, brushing her dentures, putting 'cold cream' on her little face and hands and getting her into her pajamas. As I stood behind Mom, helping her wash her hands, I asked her a question. I didn't really expect an answer. I was just mainly trying to stimulate her mind. Often, when I asked Mom questions or otherwise tried to engage her in conversation, she would look at me blankly, or stare off at some imagined thing in the distance or in her mind's eye. I asked her: "Mom, are you happy?" She stopped washing her hands and turned around, wet hands dripping -- then looked directly at me and said: "Yes, I decided a long time ago to be happy." Such a profound statement from one with pretty advanced Alzheimer's! One of the most profound thoughts I had ever considered! HAPPINESS IS A DECISION! It has nothing to do with ones' circumstances. It is a decision! I will never forget that statement from my little Mama, for it was a cornerstone of her being.

Not long after that, again, after supper one evening, we were washing hands again and as I stood behind Mom, guiding her little hands with mine, I softly asked her: "Mom, have you had a good life?" Once again, I didn't really expect an answer, because Mom was most often now in a place, mentally, where I couldn't follow. Her answer came without hesitation, however, as she said: "Yes-sir, I've lived MY life with NO regrets...have YOU?" I was dumbstruck! Where had that come from? Her mind was virtually gone! I gave her a hug and said to her: "No, Mom, I have not lived my life with no regrets...I'm deeply flawed. I've never been as good a person as you have always been....but, Mom, I'm convinced that God still loves me! She smiled at me and soon after, fell quiet again.

Mom didn't say much more after that. One day, not long after that, Mom was holding Erick and Gena's little baby, Raegan, on her lap (with close supervision), and was trying to remember how to talk to a baby and to say sweet things to Raegan. She had trouble doing it, but all of us knew what she intended, and it was a sweet moment. Then Mom said, very clearly, for all of us to hear: "Well, it's time for me to go...out with the old and in with the new." With those words, Mom had decided that it was, indeed, time for her to go. She began to refuse food and after a week of this, she had to be wheeled to the dining room in a wheelchair. She became very weak. Then Mom refused to drink liquids. She had made her decision. It was so hard to see the Mom who had brought me into the world and who had devoted herself to her kids, her husband, her grandchildren, her Mother and Mother-in-law and countless friends, give up her life.

Mom passed away about a week later. She was tired. She had no physical ailments. Her little body was almost invisible under the covers as she quietly slipped away while I gently smoothed her hair and continued softly and quietly telling her how much I loved her. Mom passed from this life on November 17, 2004, having avoided ever once seeing a doctor since her youngest child was born, in 1954. She was an extraordinary woman. She never complained -- about anything. She took life as it came and made the most of every day. After her passing, when cleaning out her home, Paula and I went through a 55-gallon drum of letters and cards of people who had loved her! There were thousands of them. It took weeks to go through them. I knew Mom was special, but until I read those cards and letters, I had no idea of the high regard so many hundreds of people had for her. Mom touched a lot of lives. In her correspondence with others, she always spoke of our Lord. Jesus was real in her life and she spoke of Him to everyone. She was a gentle woman. I loved her with all of my heart. Still do. Always will.