On Course

Late last night, one of my friends lost her mom. My friend knew her mom was in poor health, in fact she had been in and out of the hospital last month. She knew her mom was released from the hospital on hospice. Not sent home to rehab and get better; sent home with palliative care. Still, it is heartwrenching to get the call that there are only days left. When my friend texted me that the hospice nurse had said her mom should go by Monday, I didn't get it. Go? Go where? Does she need to change locations? My friend had been confused by the message too, but the truth was her mom was failing. She and her family traveled yesterday, had a sweet time with her mom, and then she was gone. And, in the end, she went gently.

I am glad for my friend's mom to be free. I am so sad for my friend. I realize her mom was not young. She had lived a full life. I realize her mom was not healthy. Life at the end was physically and emotionally hard to live. I realize her mom was not perfect and theirs was not an ideal relationship. But she was her mom. And now she's gone. Death is so sad. We grieve the loss of life. We grieve the loss of relationship, both the one we had and the one we dreamed of. We grieve with our regrets and our disappointments; the words left unsaid, as well as the words we can never take back. We grieve. Not without hope, but we grieve.

I've never met my friend's mom, but I cried when I learned of her death. I feel like we are on the same course. It looks a little different for my mom, of course. No hospital stays, no drama, just the steady deterioration of an old, tired, sick body. It feels like the path is set and each day we walk a little farther along, taking steps in a direction no one wants to go. Today Mom told Karis she didn't want to get out of bed. Now, for me, that is an everyday occurance! Not for my mom. Especially not on Sunday when her favorite is teaching Sunday School and her son-in-law is preaching. I mentioned it to Mom, her reluctance to get up, and she said, "But I did!" I didn't say it, but I know the day is coming, maybe soon, when she won't have the strength to get up. I pray, like my friend for her mom, that in the end she will go gently.