Last night I lay awake thinking about my mother and glanced at the clock…2:17am. Did I do this twenty years ago when my father died? Is this part of the grieving process? My alarm is set for 5:00am so I tried to go back to sleep. I tried to think of comforting Bible verses from memory and started praying for God to help me get back to sleep. My thoughts went to Momma being with Jesus and how her body and brain were healed now. That brought me comfort and I could rest.

Momma died in July 2015 after a massive stroke in July 2012. Those three years must have been painful for Momma both physically and emotionally. She wasn’t able to communicate with us so it was just a guess, but the doctor said “mild Alzheimer’s.” She seemed to be able to follow a conversation, but when she opened her mouth to respond it was mostly mumbling with an occasional discernible word. To listen to her was both sad and comical; I couldn’t help but smile and sometimes she would give up and laugh at herself. She worked as hard as her feeble body was capable and endured months of painful physical therapy to try to stand up on her own and take a step. But the right side of her body was useless and never regained any strength.

It was sometimes difficult for her to control the left side of her body, but it was strong! She could hook her left leg over the side of the bed and pull herself up to a sitting position. Then, it was like she would forget her right side didn’t work anymore when she would attempt to stand up. If I was there, I would stop her and remind her that her right leg wouldn’t hold her up, but often she was alone. Of course she would end up on the floor. Fortunately for her the damage was never more than a bruise. This happened a lot during the first year after the stroke. In the last couple of years, she only tried to get out of her wheelchair or her bed when she wasn’t feeling well and needed to get to the bathroom.

I don’t think she ever learned how to call for a nurse. Not sure it would have made any difference anyway. They always had alarms on her bed and her wheelchair in case she fell, but even those alarms didn’t get immediate response. I believed that I was the only one who could give “adequate” care to my mother.  I was willing to quit my job and take care of her full time, but she didn’t want to live with her children. Nearly thirty years ago she wrote my brother and me a letter stating if the time ever came when she couldn’t care for herself, she wanted to move to a care facility. She often reminded us of her wishes. But it was hard for me to be accepting of the level of care she received at either of the three different facilities in which she resided. I witnessed several sad events that still make my heart ache. It was sad for me and I was just visiting. How hard was it to live there? How hard is it to work there?

I often try to imagine what she thought about during those three years after her stroke. During her previous life she would often talk about “making memories” so that when she was old and unable to do things, she would have her memories to keep herself busy. So…was she able to recall all the memories she had made? Most of the left side of her brain had died because of the stroke, so could she even really “think” anymore?

Her hearing seemed to be particularly good during those three years. She didn’t want to have the television on or listen to music, but preferred to eavesdrop on her roommate’s visitors or the aides working in the hallway. She would raise her eyebrows and purse her lips when she heard something negative. She had a mischievous one-sided smile that warmed my heart to see on her face when she was pleased or thought whatever she heard was funny. And she did keep her sense of humor those three years and could join in with laughter when someone told a joke. I think she still thought and cared about others more than herself. It seemed to me that as soon as I arrived for a visit she was telling me I’d better start home. She didn’t like me to be on the road after dark or if the weather was bad.

There were a few times where she was unable to keep a tear or two from sliding down her face. I would try to discern the source of the tears…was she in physical pain?…was she thinking about her situation and feeling sad?…was she angry that she couldn’t form the words to tell me why she was crying?

As a servant of God, I strive to be generous, loving and hospitable like my mother. I will continue to miss her and recall the good times. I will find hope in the scriptures that promise I will be with her again someday in heaven. And I take comfort in knowing that my mother is with Jesus now and no longer trapped inside a painful, disabled physical body.

But we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives. And we are eagerly waiting for him to return as our Savior. He will take our weak mortal bodies and change them into glorious bodies like his own, using the same power with which he will bring everything under his control. – Philippians 3:20