Affirmation

When my siblings and I were in the hospital with my mom, we quickly established a routine. We had the "morning shift" and the "night shift."  Three sisters were the morning shift that stayed with my mom during the day.  My two brothers and I were the night shift, that stayed with mom at night.  My sisters would leave in the late afternoon, and my brothers would eat dinner before settling in for the night. This sometimes gave me a half hour alone with my mother.  My mother would always be sleeping. I would sit quietly and watch her, or close my eyes and try to think peaceful thoughts. 

Jennifer, one of the many nurses we met while my mother was in the hospital, walked in one night to  check  my mom's  chart.  I was sitting in the chair at the foot of my mother's bed.  When the computer monitor lit up, I stole a quick glance at the screen, trying to glean more information about my mother's situation. But of course, I couldn't decipher anything.  And really, I didn't want to know. 

I returned to my breathing. I closed my eyes and thought about "calm" and "love," the two things I wanted for my mother.  Her heart was literally beating out of her chest. It was a very disturbing thing to see.  It made me more nervous than anything, having that visual reminder of why we were here. I was willing her heart to "calm down" and return to a regular, slower rhythm. And most of all, as we all wanted, I wanted my mom to  have no fear, no worry, about anything happening to her.  If the nurses or doctors started discussing her condition in front of her while she was sleeping, my siblings and I would quickly escort them out of ear shot.  We did not want mom to be bombarded with scary medical terms or situations. 

I sensed Jennifer move.  I opened my eyes and looked at her.  She shook her head.  I thought she was shaking her head sadly at this hopeless case before her. But she shook her head again and said, "I just feel...so much love."  I looked at her for awhile, waiting for an explanation. (my first thought was, "oh no, a quack...")  Jennifer continued, "I just feel so much love in this room." And here, she put her hand to her chest. I noticed that she was wearing a cross. 

I started to cry.  "It's my mom," I whispered "She just loves us so much."

Jennifer shook her  head again and looked up at the ceiling. "No, I feel it when y'all are in the room. There is so much love here."

I wiped my eyes, determined (again) not to cry in my mother's presence.  

"I like coming into this room. I like how it feels.  Some rooms, you walk in and....(here Jennifer swiped her hand through the air) nothing. There can be a whole family sitting in a patient's room and you'll feel nothing. It's so sad.  I like your family. We all can see that you love your mother very much, the way y'all have  come from all over to be with her, the way y'all interact with each other and how you are with your mom. But it's not just what we see." Jennifer paused and looked at my mother for a long time. "Here, there's a lot of love."

I thanked her, more for her message than any service that she was providing to my mother.  She walked off, whispering, "Let me know if you need anything...."

This is one of a few memories I have of my mom's last days that actually give me peace. This memory, and all my mom's love, is in my heart forever.
xo