It
was early spring my mother was diagnosed with cancer; this was not how she
planned on spending her retirement years. The news came soon after she had sold
her house in Michigan and bought a new
custom home in Florida, something she had always wanted to do. Her move was schedule for the end of the year.
The doctors all agreed surgery was the best they could offer. Surgery was
scheduled for the month of July.
Wanting
to get my mother a gift to uplift her spirits I decide to buy her a necklace
with a gem stone or single pearl reminding her she was a GEM, loved,
appreciated and alive. Ever since I can
remember my mom loved to wear jewelry, her maiden name initials were GEM she often would
smile and say it was one of the reasons she collected gems and jewels. I went to every jewelry store and department store at the mall, I could not find anything! I decide to look one more
time. Then I saw a gold butterfly charm, and necklace. I knew this was the
perfect charm, mom had no attachments to butterflies, yet thinking of her
petite size and her passion for dancing, she could be compared to a butterfly dancing
through life. When I gave it to Mom after her surgery she decided it was a sign
she was cancer free and worn it every day.
Only
weeks before the move, packing, visiting friends, her world was back on track. She had one more doctor visit before the move.
The
words she did not want to hear… the cancer was back, chemotherapy was the
recommended treatment.
She
had to move, she had sold her home, and she had bought a new one, all her medical
records were already at The Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville Florida. The moved
could not be delayed.
The
family wanted mom to fly down thinking it would be better for her health
than a long road trip. She would not do it, repeating stories of recent airline crashes
and she believed if she got on a
plane she would not arrive to her destination alive. This was a not something
she would normally say, she loved travel and had flow many times.
I
was also moving to Florida in January, we would be 11 miles from each other.
After
several months of doctor visits mom’s chemotherapy treatments had begun, she
was extremely tired, the cards, letters and phone calls from friends were like
work to her. She would pray several times a day which appeared to give her
peace for short while. She was tired and in constant pain, getting upset she
would lash out. I would listen to her, knowing she was scared and afraid. Focusing on being grateful for the blessings
and abundance she had, would make her smile, she would ask me to tell her
again. It was the 8th day of March; Mom asked me to please stay the night at her home.I asked mom 'What is it you fear
the most, what is it you fear about death?' Her answer was quick… she did not
have to think about it… ‘I am afraid no
one will remember me, I am afraid everyone will forget me’
This
was not what I expected to hear… my mother had more friends than anyone I knew, five
children, fourteen grandchildren, 2 sisters and a mother …everyone loved her. Yet
this was her fear, we talked and I reminded her of all the friends she had ,
the many organizations she belonged, her passion for dancing, how she had given
her time, talents and care to many… sewing,
knitting, crocheting, quilting, crafting, wall papering, painting were just a
few. She answered again with ‘If I die no
one will remember me, everyone will forget me’
This
was real to her and deeply troubling; I told her that I would talk about her so
much ‘if’ she died that she come back and ask me to stop. She asked me to
promise that I would remind others to Not Forget Her! So I promised her I would do everything in my power ... and then we
prayed
together asking ‘If she died and went
home, others would remember her’. We spent hours revisiting memories and
how she made a positive impact and difference in others life’s… In those few
months she shared with me her thoughts, dreams and fears. I learned a lot about
the woman I called mom.
Mom could not get any
relief, calling the Doctors I was instructed to take her to the hospital. She
was admitted to an exam room in the ER, on the exam table Mom look up at the
nurse and touched her necklace and said “What
a beautiful necklace’ the nurse replied ‘Thank
You, my mother gave it to me’ Mom then turned to me and said in a clam and
gentle voice, ‘Denise, I am a butterfly’ she
then looked to her right as she closed her eyes. The nurses rushed me out of
the room.
After what seemed like
hours, the doctors lead me into the room where mom was, she was no longer in
pain, she was no longer suffering she had gone home in peace.
There were phone calls and
arrangements to be made; the funeral would be in Michigan. I remembered her
words that sounded out of place… She would be boarding a plane and would not be
arriving at her final destination alive.
The amount of people who
came to pay last respects to my mother was amazing.
The funeral home actually
had to open up an adjoining room to accommodate everyone.
I met so many new people
who shared a story about mom, about her passion for dancing, for life, how she
helped them with something or done something for them. I shared the story of
how peaceful mom passed and how she said she was a butterfly, with anyone who
would listen.
Back home in Florida, phone
calls and letters came from family and
friends; saying…I just found a card your mom send me it has butterflies on
it, the wall paper border your mom put up for me has butterflies on it, the dress
your mom altered for me has a butterfly print, the gift your mom gave me has
butterflies on it, I was thinking about your mom and a butterfly fluttered by. Mom
never mentioned butterflies before.
It has been ten years
since mom went home…She is remembered and not forgotten.
When we see a butterfly
you will hear us say “Hi, Mom” or “Hi, Grandma Geri” “We remember and love you”
Some say it is a coincidence
… Yet I know… I believe… I was blessed to have a part in the answers to my mother’s
prayers. From the butterfly charm to her last words!
Remember you could be the
answer to someone prayers… God is in all of us!
No comments:
Post a Comment