A Tough Night, A Tougher Day
Two days later I stopped at my parent’s house on the way to work. My sister reported Mom had a painful, distressful night; she had to call the hospice nurse at 2 am. A high dose of morphine was administered hoping she might snap out of it by the next day.
Little Mother didn’t come out of it. As the day progressed, the family gathered around. We cried, we prayed, we held her hand. I tried to read her the 23rd Psalm, but I couldn’t get through it without breaking up.
The 23rd Psalm
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
By mid-afternoon we were a little goofy. My niece and sister decided we were to give our comatose mother/grandmother death-bed confessions.
My niece said she had sneakily taken candy out of my mother’s dresser drawer when grandma wasn’t looking.
I said in 7th grade I secretly put on eye shadow after I left the house and took it off before I got home from school.
My dad walked around in a daze, sometimes sitting next to her, sometimes out in the garage.
About 5 p.m. on April 3, 2009, 5 days after she came home from hospice, Mom slipped into the welcome arms of Jesus.