It has been quite a while since I entered anything on my blog. It seems that when my father passed away in October 2012 I just lost interest in maintaining stories (he always loved them and the travel photos), and even photography has fallen by the wayside.
Sadly and with a heavy heart, I report that my mother passed away on January 16th. Pete and I were in Okeechobee, Florida, enjoying the warmth of southern Florida when we got a call from my brother, Tim, reporting that Mom had to be hospitalized and they were concerned that she wouldn't live through the night. We threw everything together, hooked up the car and headed for North Carolina. We arrived in Charlotte just as Mother was being returned to the nursing home where she resided, so I was able to spend a few days with her.
In retrospect, I have posted many things about my father--he was a wonderful man and I loved him dearly, as did all who knew him. However, little has been said about my mother--who was the wind beneath all our wings. She had a major stroke nearly 16 years ago that left her confined to a wheelchair or bed, unable to speak, walk, read or write, and unable to take care of those daily personal care items that we take for granted. Believe me, she was such a independent woman that she didn't take to that easily. It seems that after a few years, Mother accepted the fact that her condition wouldn't improve, so she set about making the best of what she had and she accomplished that. She learned to "drive" the wheelchair with the use of her one good leg and one good arm--slow going, for sure, but going she was; she made her wishes known with noises, hand gestures and smiles, and she won the hearts of her caregivers at Wilora Healthcare Center as well as many of the residents there. The day she died, one of the CNAs came by to see her, not realizing that she had passed away. She immediately started crying and tried to leave the room. I put my arms around her and told her to sit with Mother and say goodbye because their love for each other was so strong. Serena cried and said: "This is so hard--to some of us this is so much more than a job." Before the funeral home came to pick up Mother's body, so many of the nurses and staff came by her room to express their sorrow at her passing, most with tears.
Love is a wonderful emotion. For anyone reading my blog who gives personal care to a person in need, God bless you. Yours is a difficult and sometimes thankless job, but you will have your rewards.
When Mother died, I found great comfort reading some excerpts from Beth Moore's "John, the Disciple" on John 19:38-42. To paraphrase her writings..."watching someone suffer pain causes most loved ones to feel relief when it ends, even if death bid it cease. Then true to our self-destructive, self-condemning natures, relief often gives way to guilt. Then the finality of death ushers in feelings of hopelessness....We stand on the edge of our cliff-like emotions looking into the deep cavern of our grief and we're sure that the jump will kill us, but it doesn't because we are willing to take it to the cross, to remain nearby, to suffer its grief so we may also experience resurrection."
So we had a nice funeral service with beautiful music provided by my brother, Tim, on the piano playing a piece of music based on Chopin and the hymn, "Love Divine" and my sister-in-law, Becky, singing a prayer, "Grace." My daughter, Leta, gave a beautiful tribute to Mother that brought both smiles and tears from those of us who loved her. My daughter, Beth, made a beautiful photo memory table for the visitation and brought long-stemmed roses for the family to use at the burial service. God gave us a beautiful, sunny and warm January day for placing her body in its final resting place beside her husband of 74 years, my dad, Fred Brown, Sr. She is now dancing and singing with the angels in Heaven and her soul is at peace.
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