Thursday, November 10, 2011

November 10

It's been 5 whole months since she's left. In honor of my mom, I'm going to post a picture of her every 10th of the month to bring back memories of my own, and maybe they will bring back some memories about her to you, too.

This picture is 3 days into her chemo therapy.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

November 8

In Language Arts, we are doing a project called "A special paper."
We have to choose a person, or an event that made us feel special. I'm going to share what  I wrote.

It had been weeks sense I had seen her. My heart pounded inside of me as I entered the Hospice doors. As I walked into the living room of Hospice I though to my self, “I really don’t want to be here.” I wanted to see my mom, just not here. Not when she was sick and dying. Even though I had thought that my final goodbye to her was a couple of weeks ago, my dad took me to say good bye to her again, because the last good-bye I said to my mom would have broken the heart of the worlds toughest criminal. I entered the door to her bedroom in Hospice. At this point, my heart was pounding hard. I didn’t know what she would look like. I had been told that she was very skinny, and her eyes were lazy. My dad approached her first, and I followed after him. Before we had entered Hospice, my dad told me that when she saw me, she would probably just stare at me, because she had no emotion. So, that’s what I was expecting.  I walked by her, and when she saw me, she gave me the biggest smile of the day. The smile was priceless. At that moment I felt more special that you could ever imagine. She reached out her arms to give me a hug, then she planted a little kiss on my cheek. I felt the tears streaming down my face one by one. I knew that this would be the last time I saw her, but I wasn’t allowed to cry. My dad told me that if I did, I would “bring her back.” It was kind of confusing, because the hospice workers told us that my mom was “Halfway to Heaven.” That means that she was trying to hard to just, open her eyes, and see Jesus. But when she opened her eyes, it was us. She got so sick and tired of opening her eyes to the hospice room, that one time she said to my dad, “ugh. Whenever I open my eyes it’s you! I just want to see Jesus!” My dad had to laugh at that. My mom had sarcasm her whole life, even at the end of it. Sometimes I swear I can still hear her sarcasm, just around the corner. I feel her presence around me everyday. Being smiled at, being hugged, being in the presence of your mother who is near death, may not seem so special, but to me, it was. I felt as if nothing else in the world mattered, I just wanted my mom to have a peaceful death, and she did. She took one last gasp or air, and a second later she was running toward Jesus. The thought of that is so amazing, I can’t even put it into words. Having the right to say that my mom is celebrating with the Lord, right now, makes me feel so special.