I couldn't really hold conversations with her most of the time these past few years because her hearing was so bad, but she could hear her grandson's voice quiet clearly. I would often hear them talking about all kinds of things, as she sat in the livingroom surrounded by her books and shelves of special keepsakes.
We would always ask her if she wanted something to eat, or if she needed anything, as we were on our way to the kitchen, or going out the door to run errands. There are so many little ways we all interacted, that they are impossible to really recount, and to put into words... and we will miss all of them... even those times that were upsetting at the time.
Yes, we saw her in pain a lot of the time, for a long time, and were well aware of her more rapidly declining condition, but there is nothing that can really prepare you for the passing of someone you have shared your life, and then your living space, with ever since you can remember. There are times when we disagreed, and times when we got in one another's way, and all that, but no matter what differences we had, or misunderstandings, I, personally, always wished I could do more for her, and I'm sure she felt the same. .. not just about me, but all of us.
The end of January she went to the hospital and was there for a week. When she went there, she asked if she would be able to come home again. We told her she could... and we made sure she did... even though it was only for two weeks. We all did everything we could to make her see how much she was loved and appreciated during that time, and I do believe she was aware of it, if she had ever had any doubts. I wish we could have talked more, but she was sleeping a lot, and didn't feel up to conversations. A line here and there, followed by a response, was about all she was up to, for the most part, but in those few words there was a communication that really didn't need a full conversation. The matters of the ordinary day to day living didn't concern us anymore. It was the one day at a time that we spent together that mattered now, and it was in doing the little things that were so important, and her appreciation of the care we were giving her, as best we could, that said more than words could to convey the love between us all.
So many times I had wanted to do more for her, to show her how much I loved her, and it was frustrating to only do little things, when it seemed so clear that she needed something more... but what? How? Bringing her home to spend those days with us provided the answers... and I am sure she got some she was needing to know before she let go, and moved on, as well. I believe she was worried about us for years, too, and wanted to do more, but didn't know what to do, or how, as well... and I'm sure she would want true reassurance we would be fine, before she passed on.
During that time, the immediate family came to visit her, including those who had moved away, but had kept in touch with her through cards and letters and phone calls, but were living their own lives. Her coming home suddenly brought us all together under one roof, to catch up on things, and to bond with one another, and her, again. We were united again, and she saw this. She was responsible for this. This was something she could do, just by being who she was, and the love we all felt for her.... and she saw it. She felt it. It wasn't easy for us to care for her needs, but we did it. She knew this, and she did what she could to make it as easy on us as possible.
Yes, we all wished it was MORE perfect than it was, but the love we shared, and conveyed to her without words, and her silent expressions of appreciation, was what came forth to override the desire to do more, or better. We all gave our utmost, to the best of our abilities, and she knew this. We made sure she knew that her care wasn't a burden to us, and our shortcomings were not imperfections to her. All that mattered was the love that was expressing. All else was just the limitations that come from living here on earth, but the love didn't care about that. It just kept flowing, and like a tide rising, it overtook all else, no matter what pain, concerns, or worries we had. They were there, yes, but they just didn't matter.
At the end of those two weeks, she returned to the hospital. We had hoped that she would come home again. We knew her time was coming soon, but we didn't know it was as close as it was. We believed that she wanted to be home when she passed on, but perhaps it didn't matter when her final hour came, because we had fulfilled her desire to come home... and I believe she felt satisfied with that, because she didn't ask if she could come home again. She received better medical care and physical comfort than we would have been able to give her in her final days, and now she wanted us not to endure more, even though we actually welcomed it to express our love for her ( ... if endure is really the best word. I think it's the one she would have chosen.)
When she took flight, she did so after several hours of visiting with her younger son and grandchildren, talking with them, enjoying their company. It seems to have completed her need to be assured that all was right with this world, knowing that whatever came next for us now, that we were going to go through it together... united. They had left only a short time before, and she went into her eternal dream peacefully, and quickly, with a very kind nurse at her side.
In the days since her passing, we have noticed things that were lost have suddenly turned up in plain sight, things that were a concern have ceased to be, and other things ... and in unusual ways, we have gotten messeges that she is doing fine where she is now.
Last night after we gathered here in her house, having said our adieus, we dined on a banquet of Oriental foods, which was her favorite cuisine. This morning, I was clearing away the remnants of assorted packets of condiments, napkins and plates from the table, and as I was doing so, I noticed a cellophane wrapper and a broken fortune cookie on the far, rear, corner of the table. It was the only one that had been opened, and uneaten, on the table. I thought it was a bit odd, since it seemed that if someone had unwrapped it and only wanted to read their fortune that it would be in a more noticable place on the table... more likely toward the front or middle of it, instead of to the rear, on an end near a wall, behind the many plates of food that had been there, and where there was noone could possibly have been sitting. Beside it was the little white piece of paper. (I have yet to ask who did that, but it really doesn't matter, because whoever chose it couldn't have known what the messege would be.) As I finished clearing the rest of the things away, out of idle curiosity I read it. To my amazement it said: THE JOB IS WELL DONE
Thanks Mom, I agree
