My mother died on Thanksgiving Day and I have never felt more joy in my life. Am I mad or merely cold-hearted?
Neither.
I was raised believing in Me and Mom and Dad. And that was pretty much it. God wasn’t in the picture. Or rather, he was but I didn’t know it.
My parents were children of the Great Depression, and as a result grew up devoted to Security. Money was good because it bought Things. Things were good because they bought Security. And Security was good because it bought Happiness.
And for a long time that seemed to do it for them. I grew up watching Dad make money, which he was brilliant at, and Mom make crafts, which she was brilliant at. She loved beautifying her surroundings.
But after my father died at age 45 and my mother disintegrated into grief, I lost whatever was left of my belief in the Things>Security>Happiness Principal. My atheism, which had been wobbling anyway, collapsed and I began to turn toward God. In fact, I turned into a full-blown Jesus Person.
That didn’t sit well with Mom: “That’s fine, honey, but just don’t get too into it.”
“Mom, Jesus said he was ‘the way, the truth, and the life.’ You can’t be ‘too into’ the way, the truth, and the life!”
Mom eventually married Bud who was nearly as ambitious as my dad, and he helped restore her faith in the Things>Security>Happiness Principal.
But then, in the fall of 1999, she had a series of strokes. These left her mentally cloudy, shaky on her feet, and unable to pursue her projects. So she took to sitting and watching the news.
She began to look at the world differently. Our phone conversations, which had always been filled with reports of her little projects, now turned to diatribes against the cruelty and injustice of the world: “There’s so much suffering, so much wrong!”
For years I’d ended our conversations with, “I’m praying for you, Mom,” and she’d always replied, “I’m praying for you too.” Then I’d ask, “Really?” And she would answer, “Oh, you know, I mean I’m holding up a good thought for you.”
But one day, she said, “I’m praying for you” in a deliberate, I-mean-this sort of way. “Really?” I asked. And this time she replied, “Yes. Really. Oh, honey,” she continued, “the world is so broken–I never realized just how broken–and there’s nothing I can do about it. So I pray. All the time.”
Two days later, Bud called from a hospital in Hemet, California. He sounded shell-shocked. “Your mother’s heart…she’s not going to be leaving this place,” he whispered, refusing to confirm the truth with a full voice.
The moment I saw her, I knew he was right. Pale and struggling for every breath, her heart pulsing more like a memory than a reality, she smiled and whispered, “Still praying.”
“To God?” I asked, as if repeating an old punchline.
”Yes.”
She slept fitfully throughout the night. Bud and I did the same in two tired vinyl hospital chairs.
Mom faded in and out of consciousness all the next day, unable to offer more than yeses or noes. I talked about our life together, about her love for Dad and for Bud, about tennis and origami, about all the Christmases we’d spent together.
The doctor told us that in order to make her more comfortable they would need to up her medication; she would no longer be able to communicate. It was code for, “Say your good-byes.”
Bud sat by her for a long time, unable to speak. Then I took her hand, smiled, and said, “You can’t have too much of the way, the truth, and the life, can you?” She did a little choking laugh, squeezed my hand, and shook her head no.
She was fighting for every breath, yet her eyes were glowing. I suddenly realized that in the race toward God, she’d run far ahead of me.
“I love you forever, Mom,” I told her. Tears slipped from her swollen eyes as she squeezed my hand one final time.
My mother died in the early morning hours of Thanksgiving Day. God, in his wonderful, inexplicable economy, had used everything—her strokes, her heart failure, the evening news—to speak to her, to strip away all that had kept his precious daughter from him for so many years.
And that was why, just after sunrise on Thanksgiving Day, 1999, I drove home to be with my family,
Filled with irrational joy.
Dolores was a beautiful woman inside and out. She was sweet, kind, full of grace, funny . She left you/us too early and it is comforting to hear of her faith stories with you. Hard to believe it has been that long. Hope to see you when we pass through your neck of the woods in 2024. XOXO Missy
Wonderful to hear from you, Missy, and yes, a visit in ’24 would be great! (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
This is a very moving account. It sounds like a beautiful experience . I remember having turkey sandwiches in a hospital cafeteria with my husband two days before my mother died. It was one of the most meaningful Thanksgivings ever. I am sorry for your loss but glad for the joy you feel. ❤️ 🙏🏽
Thank you, Ellen. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Yeah, I don’t know why that happens. Thank you very much!
Thanks for sharing these beautiful memories of your mom, my lovely Aunt Delores. I forgot she passed on Thanksgiving Day. Grandma T passed on Christmas Day. I have a special “grandma” ornament that goes up high on our Christmas tree. What a special day to go meet our Lord!
Sorry it didn’t get my name………your cuz, Sherry
That’s perfect, Sherry. And wonderful to hear from you! (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Thank you
My privilege, Susan. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
What a beautiful and very moving testimony of God’s ability to use the hard things we go through to lead us to the one thing we most needed all along… Him. Such a special bond to share with your mom and one that makes your joy seem like a very reasonable response. Thank you for sharing, Mitch. ❤️
My privilege. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Thanks for sharing a heartfelt and beautiful tribute about your mother finding her way! Peace and blessing to you this holiday season.
Thank you, AW. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Inspiring post, Mitch.
Thank you, Deborah. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
So sorry for your loss Mitch. What a wonderful tribute for your mother. Your mom is present at the gate with Rosalynn Carter and Henry Kissinger, some good company there. May peace settle in your heart and good thoughts bring smiles to your cheeks.
Thank you, my friend. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Lovely tribute to your Mom. I was lucky to wind up with two “Moms” back in 1996 when my Mom passed on my mother-in-law stepped in and became my second Mom. Now both are gone and I miss my Mom the most for I had her all my life but I also miss my mother-in-law she was a very good and kind woman,
A double-mixed blessing. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Wow! So touchingly beautiful. Your joy is rational. God bless.
Thank you so much, Stephanie. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Me so happy for a beautiful moment for me and you
Thank you, GodsChild. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
What a beautiful death your mother had..on just the perfect day.. Wonderfully told, Mitch:)
Thank you, Karima. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
Beautiful testimony.
Thank you, Jean. (P.S. I just now saw this–for some reason a whole bunch of previous comments just showed up!)
I just posted it tonight. I’m new to your blog and thought I’d have a look around. Really liked what I saw and look forward to reading more. Thanks for following mine. Appreciate it 🙂
Ah, I see that now (it showed up with a bunch of November comments). Good to meet you!
My mother is not dead this is confusing
Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.
Such a beautiful, heart warming experience you shared mitch. She rests well seeing you in joy.
Thank you, Narayan.
Your story is a true message of life’s love and love will live again.
Thank you, my friend, it will indeed.
My book will come out crazy
Such a beautiful story, Mitch. It warms my heart to hear how you, your mother, and God all found your way to “together.”
Thank you, Abe.
My Mother is so ready to be with God and she prays everyday for us and We need it.
<3
You are such a great writer! And I wish you my condolences for the loss of your mother on Thanksgiving! I would really like to subscribe to blog today because of how much I love the type of points you bring up, and these are points that really lift my spirits in ways that I haven’t felt in a very long time. How did you become such a talented writer?
Thank you, my friend, I’m honored. Of course, the number one piece of writing advice is simply write. We learn more by doing–and doing, and doing–than any other means.
Thank you Mitch! God bless and have a wonderful weekend sir!
You too!
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I usually don’t comment on older posts, but this one moved me to tears, Mitch. God has a way of working things out for our good and His glory. I’m grateful that your mom is now resting in the arms of Jesus.
Thank you so much, BK. (Btw, is BK what you prefer to be called?)
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