July 9, 2013
The best thing about being 77 is being 78.
Those were Mother’s slurred words the year she turned 77 in 2011. We celebrated her birthday at the nursing home. She passed away in late 2012.
I kept a small journal and I blogged about our journey together. As I look back, I can thank God for giving me the honor of taking the journey alongside Mother. I found strength I didn't know I had to spend long hours in emergency rooms, ICUs, hospital and nursing home rooms.
I become an adept itinerant sojourner as I accompanied Mom in our quest to make her comfortable. She never lost her ability to understand and listen to me, but it was difficult to understand her words.
My older brother directed the medical maze and details, and it was up to me to make sure the spiritual symphony played the most comfortable melodies. Over several years, everything was discussed, all was forgiven, and nothing was left under the table. We prayed.
I became Mother’s personal pastoral caregiver. At the beginning of her journey, I often thought that I should call one of the many members of the clergy I know.
But it was my role.
It was a role that the Lord planned for me. A gift the Lord gave me for my mother.
I remember Lala on her 79th birthday. I remember her tender smile. I remember her tender words: I love you.
Love you back, Mom. See you in a while.
These posts record some of our journey.
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