Jack Briant Reporter

Saturday, January 21, 2012

The Day My Mother Died



It was February 10, 2000 when my mother died. It was one day short of my parents’ 50th anniversary when she left the earthly plane. When I departed her side that morning a few days after my birthday she was laid out on a hospital bed in her living room the morphine drip at her finger tips as she fought off the excruciating pain of the cancer that would soon take her life.  

When the news came that she had expired I felt a deep sigh of relief that her suffering had come to an end. There was also a sense of calm that had befallen me because I had told her I loved her before she took her last breath and everything that I needed to say to her had been said. And although she left the corporeal world of the living I took her spirit along for the ride that I continue on until it’s my time when God calls me home. I hope its upstairs where I think she resides and I am sure that my angels have gotten some direct guidance from her as they continue to help me avoid some of my human foibles. 

I was there when my sister of 16 died violently in an auto crash and two years ago I felt the blood rush to my head when I lost my sister at 50 to the disease of not being able to catch her breath. But the day my mother died is in a way so different because it was her that gave me life and it’s through her eyes that I see some of the road ahead even if I need glasses.  



2 comments:

  1. Death is a loss and for those of us that suffer from separation anxiety an excruciating source of pain. Having lost all of my birth family I find remembering dates and times is an increased source of pain. Loosing your mother sure does amount to a loss that equals no other . You are no longer anyone's "little boy or girl". The future is without guidance or a loving helping hand. I'm sorry. There is of course no substitute but I offer mine

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  2. So true. Being that I'm your sister I can say I know the experience.

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