Turbo Cancer: Day 180 - December 8, 2022
Settling Down
On this day, last year, I wrote:
My mom is slowing down quickly. She is sleeping most of the day, but still having short periods of alertness. It is very clear from her smile that she recognizes the people around her, and that she can hear our conversations. She loves it when people come close and kiss her gently on the lips. She still has the most radiant smile.
Things were settling.
Once the ice cream parties had ended, my mom stopped eating.
The stopping of eating is a natural part of dying.
Her body was slowing down. It no longer needed the energy that food provides.
Her spirit had been freed. She didn’t need a body. She was happily existing, separated from the pain and the suffering of the living. She was getting ready to leave, but she was not yet gone.
She was somewhere between here and there.
We still had to move her to clean her, but not very often.
My brother’s son James, had arrived from Minnesota. He had come to help.
We were working in shifts. My mom required medicine, as needed, throughout the night. Somebody had to always be awake, keeping vigil, watching for the subtle signs of breakthrough pain.
We kept her comfortable. If she seemed too hot or too cold, we adjusted her blankets. If her lips looked dry, we wiped inside her mouth with a water-soaked sponge. If we saw signs of discomfort in her face, we gently adjusted her position or her pillows.
My mom wasn’t talking much anymore, except to say “I love you” to each person who walked through her bedroom door.
And people kept walking through the door.
Friends and family felt compelled to come and sit with her. While her spirit was hovering between Earth and Heaven, they wanted to be close to her. They wanted to thank her for the many ways she had touched them during her life.
People came to pray for her. People came to pray with her. People came to remember. People came to say goodbye.
My mom was happy.
It was as if she she had been an angel, floating on a cloud. She looked poised and graceful, lying on her bed, sleeping peacefully. Occasionally, when she opened her eyes, she looked around, smiled, and reached out to take the hand of whomever was sitting closest to her.
She had the kindest face I had ever seen.
She could feel the love flowing around the room. She had lived a good life. She was satisfied.
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After such a difficult time in "treatment" it is a relief to hear of her "angelic" rest.
Kristi, bless you! God loves you!
“My mom wasn’t talking much anymore, except to say “I love you” to each person who walked through her bedroom door.”
Her most important words for her earthly people.