As she was lying there on the bed,visible signs of torment eating away at her now frail body are evident. She may be a hundred pounds, but probably not. Her hair is almost gone. Just a few strands here and there, unable to hide her pale skull as she lies there in the bed sleeping.....or is it semi-comatose? The Cancer has been eating away at her insides for over a year. She only knew about it for the last few months. Two of her sons are standing over her as she lies there in the bed. She can't speak really anymore. The morphine dosage has been increasing daily now. She is out of pain they are told but there is no hope of survival. They are just keeping her out of pain as best they can. Both sons are holding her hands; one on the left, and one on the right. It's upsetting to both of them that she is now unable to communicate anymore. Both brothers are speechless themselves, suffering individually over the demise of their mom who is whittling away into nothing in front of their eyes over the Last week especially. All they can do is hold her hand. Both are full of emotion but unable to express it. It cannot be put into words; how it feels to watch your mother die who was at one time the rock, the glue that held the family together. Then it happened. She was looking at them now. They smiled at her. She mustered up her strength and squeezed their hands. This was encouraging. Then she did something else. She took her two sons hands and pulled on them. She brought them towards her. Both sons let her pull them in close to her in this show of strength on her part. As she brought them to her chest, she didn't pull them in to her body as they thought, instead she ever so slowly intertwined them together over her body. She was putting them together! She placed one brothers hand into the others. The two looked at each other and then to her. She had a pleading look in her eyes. It was clear; she was communicating after all. It was clear to this brother anyway. She wants us to love each other. Take care of each other as you grow. It was a powerful message; one that overwhelmed me! We held hands over her for perhaps a minute. We never really spoke about it after that, but it was clear to me that she was trying to convey to us that she wants us to care for each other because she will not be able to anymore. It's been 18 years since then. We are still in touch weekly by phone. I do love my brother very much. I often wonder if he remembers it like I do. If the message she was sending was as clear to him as it seemed to me. Maybe he wonders the same thing?...................

That's when she called me one day at work.
"Dan...............it's mum", she said.
"Hi ma. how'd it go?", I asked. Even while I asked I could sense something was wrong. Why was she calling me at work? She was supposed to be operated on today to fix this ulcer that was supposedly making her unable to eat without becoming feelings of nausea and many times throwing up. So why was she calling me so soon into the day? She wouldn't tell me over the phone. All she could say was that she wanted to talk to me in person and wanted to know when I got out of work..............can I come up to see her. Many thoughts ran through my head. What could it be? The worst it could be is cancer right? If she has cancer we can do something about it probably. Oh, God please comfort her through this. Please help me God. Please help me through this too. Help me to help her. I really don't remember much more of that day. It sort of jumps forward to me in the hospital room with her. I'm sitting with her on the bed. she is very serious in her tone. She tells me she has stomach cancer. They were not able to operate because it is too widespread throughout her body. They went in to fix the supposed ulcer and found cancer all over. They literally just closed her back up and brought her back to the room. I remember trying to be encouraging and not show her any fear or worry. I just wanted her to know I would help her through this. She seemed pretty resolved there was nothing that could be done.
Things changed those next few months. She went for some chemotherapy more for palliative treatment; to reduce the pain she was going to have as she died. She went about her life to some extent. I remember visiting her in the hospital shortly after her diagnosis and she had a bright red pocket-purse next to her. When I asked her why she said bought it 'cause she always wanted one but thought it too fancy to have......now she didn't care.....she was getting one before she died.
She didn't get real sick right away. Those chemo drugs are deadly though. They wiped her out when they did kick in. She had to get a tube put in her stomach for nutrition because she couldn't eat anymore without getting sick. If you knew her, you knew she loved to eat. She eventually also got a pain control machine she wore like a belt that could give her pain control too. In two months time it was Thanksgiving and she had been home a short while but unable to really do anything around the house. We had thanksgiving over there house. She couldn't eat with us, she couldn't make anything for us, she had no more eneergy and became simply frustrated and sad as they day went on. I seem to recall it was at this time she decided she would rather stay in the hospital than stay at home for the remainder of her illness. Back then you could do that! She was there through Christmas. I remember Christmas day. She mustered up all the energy she could to present herself as positive as she could to her family. We all went to visit her at differing times to see her and she was in a good mood for all of us. She started getting sicker right after that. The cancer was eating away at her insides at a rapid pace. She started hallucinating from the large doses of morphine she was recieving. Her stomach was bloated! It was huge! One day one of us went in and she said, "Guess what...........I'm having twins." We didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was pleasant enough. Never mean or nasty, just losing touch with reality more and more. Her life had been reduced to trying to spit into the small emesis basin given to her by the nurse. For some reason it was important to spit. I don't know why. It had become her chore; what she needed to do every few minutes. As I was standing next to this woman, my mother,the one who raised me from a baby, the one who used to scare me at times with just a look, my duty was clear. I had to wipe her mouth after she attempted to spit into the basin and small white cotton-ball type foam would form on her lips. My duty was clear to me at that moment. "She did this for you"........"She did this for you when you were a babe". My duty was clear; I took care of my task with alacrity! There was nothing gross or disgusting about it. It's different when it's your own flesh and blood. It was just something that had to be done; in fact, it was my priviledge to do it; an honor you might say.
The doctor had told my dad it was a matter of days or weeks til she would die. There were seven of us so we kept an around the clock schedule so someone was always with her at all times. She became almost comatose for that last week of her life. We would go and visit and just sit with her and hold her hand, not much else. I remember going to bed each night that last week feeling kind of guilty asking God to please take her. This was not living to her; she was merely existing now day by day. She couldn't even speak anymore. Who knows how much morphine she was getting every hour now. We would bring the phone to bed each night because we knew it was just a matter of time...............
The phone woke me up. I don't even remember who it was on the phone. It was one of my siblings I think. She died not too long ago they said. Dad was there. "OK", I said. I almost went back to sleep. I told my wife next to me. I lay there feeling glad for her, sad for me, guilty that I felt glad she was dead. I was grateful her suffering was over. Of course I could not go back to sleep. The next week was a blur. Before I knew it the funeral was over she was buried and life was going on. My father was beside himself with grief. They were together for over 25 years and he was now alone. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going through. One thing that I remember from the end of her life is something my father told me. He said that he was sitting there next to her in the bed that night. Now mind you, she hadn't really spoken hardly at all for over a week. He said that all of a sudden, she sat up in bed wide-eyed and said, "There comin' for me!!"
"Who?", myfather asked.
"The angels.....there comin' for me!!" Not many hours after that she died. Perhaps we should say her spirit left her body and went to be with her Creator. I like to remember that story fondly because I too believe that this earth is not my home. My home is in heaven. I do not grieve her passing anymore. Even after the initial sadness of her dying wore off, I had a sense inside that she is not dead. She is alive in heaven with my King. I will see her again soon! Life is fleeting. Before I know it, I will be there too. While I am in no hurry, I am not afraid to die. To me it's more like a "going home" than a dying.