"Go Rest High on That Mountain" "Go Rest High on That Mountain"
Death's Anniversary
by Diane Bell
Time passes. Pain lessens, revealing pain lessons. Raw emotions scab over and I’m not picking at them any more. My mind clears enough to recognize comfort in the familiar rhythm of my life. My calendar displays the anniversary date. A whole year has passed. It's been one year since I flew to my mother’s deathbed to help make her as comfortable as possible while she died. The horror and intense spirituality during that time are hard to reconcile.
God made His appearance and resided with us for the final two weeks of her life. He told her our secrets, both the ones whispered to each other outside the house, and the ones hidden in our hearts. He allowed her to have fun and share her love and joy with us. It seems so unfair that she could be attentive to our emotional needs only in death. It was a task she never tended in life.
She was so very frail and looked 92 rather than the 72 years she barely was. The first three days that I was there, she was on an emotional roller coaster while her body adjusted to the morphine. She was terrified of loosing her mind and the drug induced hallucinations caused her to be confused, increasing her fear a thousand-fold. It was me she asked for at those times. I was the one she trusted and believed. I sat on her bed to explain things to her when she got confused. I wish there had been such trust and closeness earlier in our relationship. She even rocked me in her arms, stroking my face and hair, calling me her baby. It was the first time this adult child remembers being cuddled and loved by her mother. Intellectually, I see great sadness in her act. Emotionally, I treasure the memory and will be comforted by the warmth of her arms and love for the rest of my life.
It was the first time in my life that I ever achieved loving detachment with my mother. Of course, she wasn’t slamming my button panel every ten minutes, so that made it easy to do. It was such a nice space to be in that I wondered why we had never been there before. It was so freeing to not react emotionally to her words and actions the few times she became difficult. If I had known the results would feel so good, I would have worked harder at it with her. Sometimes God has to teach me my most difficult lessons in life under conditions that make it easy for me to see and do.
When the end drew near she refused her evening dose of morphine, softly saying, “No more. No more drugs. I want to be clear-headed for this.” I was filled with tremendous admiration for her courage. I realized, with respect, that my mother had a strength of character and purpose that I had never seen before. An hour later her eyes opened wide and clear and she looked at me and said she was dying. I knelt and laid my head on her bed and let the tears flow. She lifted her hand and caressed my head. Giving me comfort. The last thing she said to us was, “Get it out. That’s right. Cry and get it all out.”
God bestowed great love and wisdom on my mother at her death and allowed her to share it with us to begin the healing before she was gone. She slipped into coma and died the next day. I spent years in therapy learning to shed all the garbage that keeps me from being myself, but only at her death did I see clearly how Mom’s own garbage kept her from sharing herself with us in life. God freed her at the end, just in time to reveal herself to us. Thank you, God!
© Diane Bell
•