Time allows us a little distance to look back on some of the most difficult situations in our lives, times when your grief is so profound that you thought you might break, and see the miracles that were happening in your midst.
Two years ago today, my mom was dying of colon cancer. She was in her home on hospice care. This was the worst day of her journey toward heaven. September 15th is the Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows which I didn’t know until two years ago, but how appropriate. My Spiritual Director at the time told me about this special day that the Church recognizes and he celebrated Mass for my mom that morning. At this point, my mom was no longer talking to us but she would cry out in pain every time we had to move her. She was so thin and fragile and we tried to be so gentle when we moved her but she still cried. Around 11 o’clock that morning her breathing changed and every breath became a struggle. There was a big gasp followed by that gurgling death rattle, another gasp and more gurgling. This went on for hours and was very distressing to watch. We would talk to her and tell her to go ahead and go. We reminded her that our siblings, Kathryn, Mitchell and Kevin were there waiting for her along with Jesus. We reassured her that we would be OK and would take care of each other. After 7 hours of this we couldn’t bear it any longer so I called upon my prayer warriors. I texted my Spiritual Director and a few dear friends and asked them to pray that this would end soon. Within 30 minutes her breathing settled down and she was at peace. She no longer cried out when we moved her.
God was with us in so many ways during those last few weeks through the love and support of friends. We always had food to eat and anything else we needed without asking. My sister Julie works for the Associated Press and her correspondent in Rome had Mass said for my mom by Pope Benedict XVI. The hospice chaplain was a friend of the family and also a Eucharistic Minister. He came to the house and had a Communion service for us before he left town. The Deacon from my parents’ parish, who had also watched his wife die of cancer, was a great support. He brought Communion to my mom when she was still able to consume it. One day he brought his guitar and sang, he has a beautiful voice, and we prayed the Rosary together. And in so many other ways we were surrounded with love and lifted up in prayer.
By that night we were all so tired. This was the 10th day that we had been at her side 24 hours a day. Two of us were constantly at her side and the rest of us were always nearby. We would rotate taking short naps in the bedrooms. That night I went to lie down for a few hours in my old bedroom and fell into a peaceful sleep. A storm was moving in and a few hours later my niece woke me up because this was it. As I walked to the den, the grandfather clock was striking midnight, there was a loud clap of thunder and my mom took her final breath. We joked that she was making quite an entrance into heaven. Her pain and suffering were over. She was able to die in her home surrounded by her children, grandchildren and our dad. How much more perfect could it have been?
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