A Loving Tribute

Today marks three years since my mom passed away, and it seems only fitting that this post be dedicated to her memory and the legacy she created in those whom she loved and cared about most. Her death was very personal to me because I walked alongside her throughout the final 29 months of her life.

I had just moved to a new place on one of the most oppressively hot days in late July. Imagine walking into an oven that also served as a steam room. I was excited for the new adventure but not quite ready to start the unpacking process after a twelve-hour day. I called one of my close friends to debrief about the move while I frantically tried to locate the basics for my trip among all the boxes. Yes, I was leaving in only a few short hours (on a Sunday) for a week-long work conference 1,400 miles away.

On my way to the airport, I stopped by my parents’ house to check in. I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face when I walked through the door. He told me that he didn’t think my mom would be here when I got back. I asked him a few times if he really thought she wouldn’t be here a few days later. I knew in my mind, no one knows the day or hour when God will call us home, but my dad had some experience in this area, as did I, and I was looking to him for assurance. At first I was a little panicked not knowing what to do and my window to catch the flight was closing.

So, I debated for a few minutes, despite knowing what I wanted to do, mainly because I wondered if work would understand the situation, and I genuinely was concerned about how it would be received. Can you imagine not understanding? It’s challenging enough to juggle work commitments with personal responsibilities on the best of days, but on this particular day, the weight of the situation made this task near impossible. Finally, I determined I didn’t care if anyone understood or not, and I sent the following text to my colleague who coordinated the trip.

“Hi, I had to make a difficult decision this morning. My mother’s health has been deteriorating rapidly in the past weeks and days. I’ve been busy with the move the last few days but when I stopped to see her on my way out of town, the decline from a few days ago is significant. She is struggling with each breath and having uncontrollable tremors. I think her passing is imminent. Although I have no way of knowing exactly when that might be, my gut tells me I should stay close to home. I hope you understand and I will miss being there with you and the team.”

To this day, that text remains on my phone. I will never regret the decision to stay back and I was pleasantly relieved by the response I received: “you are exactly where you should be.”

My mom was a woman of strong faith. She lived her faith in the way she treated and showed up for others. She did not seek recognition or accolades for anything she did. When she saw a need, she quietly stepped in to make things better for those around her, to lessen a load, to share her presence, to brighten someone’s day with her smile. She delivered meals to the elderly, homebound, and church members who had lost a loved one. She was kind, compassionate, and truly lived the golden rule.

My mom, naturally, was a nurse by profession, following in her mother’s footsteps. Her mother was a force of nature - a strong woman who was the administrator in their local hospital and also a nurse by profession. In that day and age, it was almost unheard of for a woman to be in this type of role - to have this level of authority - and she was beloved. She was a trailblazer and my mom was the apple of her eye. She was not extravagant, but she appreciated quality, and wanted to give my mom and her brothers the best possible opportunities she could afford to give them.

My mom was extremely down to earth, and like her mother, material items were not important to her, and definitely did not define her. She was selfless and regularly put others’ needs ahead of her own. I remember as a child wanting her to put herself first, to buy that one outfit she liked at the store, but in the end, she returned it to the rack. As a result, I took every opportunity I had to spoil her once I was able to do so.

She learned to play golf in her 50s and the golf course was her impression of heaven. The love of the game became her gift to herself in later years, and when it came to golf, she finally put herself first.

My mom was a loyal friend and the family peacemaker who never wanted to upset anyone and also wanted everyone to stay connected with one another. She coordinated family get-togethers and loved having her kids and grandkids nearby for special dinners and holidays.

One of her favorite phrases was “kill them with kindness”. It was no coincidence that today when I took my youngest for a sports physical, the doctor used those exact same words - “kill them with kindness” - then asked us if people say that anymore. If that wasn’t a wink from above, I don’t know what is.

My mom’s guidance was constant, subtle, and ever-present throughout my life which was why those last few days were heartbreaking for me. I knew our time together was slipping away (for now) and my dad’s instincts were correct. She did pass away that week and I only left her side for brief moments. I wanted to be there for her in the same way she had always been there for me. I wanted to comfort her through this transition and let her know I would do my best to carry on her legacy by walking alongside my dad, my sister, my daughters, friends, and those whom she loved and cared about most.

Her funeral prayer card read:

I shall pass through

this world but once,

If therefore, there is any

kindness I can show…

Or any good I can do…

Let me do it now, let me

Not defer or neglect it,

For I shall not

Pass this way again.