Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Mom's homegoing

As you are well aware, I have not blogged for 10 days now. I have just returned from a trip to Maine during which time I had the priviledge to be a part of my mom's final homegoing on October 13th. When my sister called me on the night of the 8th, it was what she didn't say that prompted me to get off the phone and buy a plane ticket for the next morning. As most of you know, my mom was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of skin cancer back in May. During the last two weeks of her life, she deteriorated extremely quickly, which, in retrospect, was a very good thing. When I arrived on the 9th, she was very weak, but still knew me and told me in a whisper that "my prayer's are answered" when she saw me. (Mine too, mama.) As a nurse, I have watched many people die; but it is so very different when it is your own mother. I consider it the greatest of honors to have spent her final days curled up in a recliner beside her, holding her ever-weakening hand and sharing so many stories with her and my family, even as she lapsed into unconsciousness. 
The viewing, funeral, commital and gathering at our home following the burial all had one common theme: how much she loved people and took the time to live that love. She gave us all an incredible legacy. During these quiet (computerless) hours, I had time to reflect on many things and have decided some changes are in order. In honor of Mom's legacy, I realize now more than ever that it truly is people that matter. All the hugs and tears and silent moments mean more than all the gold in the world. We all KNOW this, but sometimes life has a way of pushing in and making us forget. In light of this, I have decided that I will not sweat the days when it's just too busy and I don't have time to blog. I will try my best to finish out the "year of blogging," but when people need to come first, they will, and I will not feel guilty. It has seemed to me over this past year--and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong-- that it is blogs that come from the heart that mean the most to people anyway. So here's to Mom...may we all live her legacy of loving others.  
(Mom loved her letters, both sending and receiving, so we honored that by turning her mailbox into a funeral spray. Didn't the florist do a lovely job??)


  1. Oh Tricia! I'm so sorry Dear!!! What a blessing to have been able to spend those last few days with her! What a comfort to know that someday you will be with her again! And I think the florist did beautiful job!

  2. Dear Trish,

    Thank you for sharing and allowing us to be part of those last precious hours with your mother.

    love, john & Betty

  3. Yes Trish, the mailbox was perfect.
    I have been thinking about her and her servants heart. She has now passed the torch on to all of us at the chapel. It's time to step forward and let our little light shine for all to see.
    I am bless to have had her as a friend.


  4. Keep the memories tucked snuggly in your heart; bringing tears to your eyes, a lump in your throat, and a silent sob that denies the true joy of knowing without a doubt that Mom is safe at home with Jesus...

  5. I'm thankful you had that time with your mom. I was able to spend the last 72 hours with my father and, like you said, it was an deep honor. We have been thinking about about you and praying for you.


  6. Dear Tricia,
    About a week ago I had the feeling you might have gone to be with your mother. Prayers went up for you and your family that day. This morning upon reading your blog I can't help but shed tears myself for the world has lost a true loving spirit. Being so close to my own mother I can't help but reflect on the complexity of losing someone so dear. I know you have great support in your life but you should know you have all of us readers as well! Take good care.

    from Greensboro

  7. What a blessing to know that she was delivered quickly into the arms of her Savior. May the peace that surpasses all understanding descend upon you and your family in this time of sorrow.

    kristen harkless