Mom beat cancer...

Probably a few posts this week about my mom, approaching the 1 year mark of her passing... This first one is a long one, the others (if they happen) will likely be shorter... So, here goes-

Been spending alot of time, and it will probably get worse before it gets better, throwing myself little pity parties. I have been stuck in a pattern of thinking about my mom and losing her nearly a year ago... In a little more than a week, it'll be the 1 year anniversary. Life getting back to normal seems to be the biggest culprit, I've finally gotten to where I am using some of her recipes, and accepting that she is gone. It makes me feel that I am not grieved enough to not have her... Like I must be broken because I'm not distraught (nor have I truly been during this) over losing her.

I love my mom dearly, she was the o e person who could flawlessly follow my logic, and her straightforward honest approach to my upbringing made me so much of what I am now... But I rarely "miss" her. I know there are times when it'd be nice to tell her something, or have her be the ONLY person to laugh at my joke... But ultimately, I'm so happy for her, so proud of her, that I can't bring myself to say I truly wish she were still here.

My mom is with our living God and Savior. She chose to tell her cancer to take a hike and that she was going to go to the Master Physician and get healed. Not only does my mom not have cancer anymore, but she also has a place in a heavenly choir. She doesn't have to think about, dwell on, or worry about this sad, broken, sinful world. She was done putting up with the filth that Satan spreads on this earth, she was ready to be in a world that has never, and will never be marred by sin. I'm jealous that she is there already, but encouraged that I am still here because there is work to be done. I have a mission, assigned by the Holy, Living God... I am His servant.

One day, I'll get to leave this earth, just like the rest of us all... We will all spend eternity somewhere... our soul is eternal, it has to dwell someplace... do you know where you're headed? Mom knew where she was going, and she was excited to be going.

How do I know that?

It the last conversation we ever had. I went to her hospital room at 2AM. She was awake when I walked in, just staring at the ceiling. We had just that morning been told that her cancer had overtaken her liver. The only treatment options left stood a better chance at just making her death slow and painful. Her decision, as she put it, was to stop playing by cancer's rules. She was tired of the disease dictating her life, she was ready to go home.
When I walked into her room, her gaze to the ceiling looked prayerful. I can honestly say that I don't remember seeing my mother pray often. Her faith was private in so many ways. I waited until she noticed me standing there. I has just lost a patient of my own, like my mom, much to young for their body to have put up with what it had. I had made a habit of visit mom's room while I was working, particularly if it had been a bad night. She was in the hospital so often, that I knew that I would have someone to talk to.

She noticed me standing next to her bed after a couple moments, I told her about the patient I had just lost... She smiled and gave me a hug. As she released me I caught a glimpse of her eyes. There was something different, peace... they were no longer tired, dying, they were (in that moment) youthful and joyous. I asked, "You ready to go home tomorrow?"

We talked briefly about the arrangements at the house... Her bed positioned in front of the front bay window, overlooking her flowers and the timber... at last, I asked the only question that really matters, "Are you ready to go Home." She smiled (her unforgettable, gorgeous smile) and simply said, "yes." We hugged, cried, and she told me she was sorry about the patient I lost that night. It was the last time we spoke, the rest of the week she had left, there was hand-holding, and smiles... there was peace and comfort. And, I will stand by it forever, just before she left this world, she looked me in the eye, smiled, and then moved her gaze beyond me... looking past this broken world. Her faith, though quiet for many years, became abundantly clear sight. She beat cancer.