Soft Passing By
It was day six. I remembered a prayer I had said: "Lord, I give you the weight of Mom’s body. Carry her in your arms; life and death are too heavy a burden for me. I commit her life and her dying days into your hands." Mom is not too heavy for Jesus. This is the work of the cross; Mom belongs to you. Let my soul be comforted knowing you are with her.
I woke up before my alarm, which was highly unusual for me because I was so exhausted. But I got up anyway and started getting ready for the day. I was the one that took the longest to get ready. I went upstairs to get something to eat for breakfast and found Angela in the living room with her boys. They were watching cartoons. She had called her mom, Sophie, who had spent the night in Mom’s room. She said Mom’s condition was unchanged.
I remembered thinking, "Lord, I don’t have the strength for another day." I was too tired to watch Mom’s body at death’s door any longer.
I went downstairs and finished getting ready. I put on my makeup and curled my hair. Through the room, a whisper, a promise, and a soft passing by. Then, in the next few minutes, I got the call that Mom had just passed.
Did her angel “pass by” the room as he carried Mom away? Did I have eternal ears open to hear them pass by? I questioned myself, but I was assured I did feel a gentle presence moving through, and my mom saying, “I love you too.” It is a comfort to me still, a reminder that Mom crossed to the other side. She is free.
Leslie, Angela, and I got ready to go to the hospital. Angela commented that it was bothering her that her mom, my sister Sophie, was still in Grandma’s room alone. But I don’t think we hurried. Instead, we slowed down to grieve and to absorb the shock of the reality of Mom being gone from us.
When we got to the hospital, I crawled up on her hospital bed, took her in my arms, and held her. It was tender yet terrible. I couldn’t hold back my tears.
I noticed how quickly her body was cooling. The nurse apologized that she hadn’t been able to close Mom’s eyes or mouth. Mom was always a mouth breather.
I remembered being in Dad’s hospital room, how his face had reverted to looking like his younger self. It illustrated that not all people die in the same gentle way, just relaxing of breath and body.
But Mom’s death didn’t go that way. We weren’t there when she took her last breath. It might have been easier for us, but maybe that’s the way she wanted it to be. My sisters and I found it hard to leave Mom’s side, knowing we would never again in this lifetime embrace her frail body and her very soft skin.
Weak and wounded sinner
Lost and left to die
O, raise your head, for love is passing by
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus and live
Now your burden’s lifted
And carried far away
And precious blood has washed away the stain
So sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus and live
And like a newborn baby
Don’t be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk sometimes we fall
So fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live
Sometimes the way is lonely
And steep and filled with pain
So your sky is dark and pours the rain
Then fly to Jesus
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus and live
Oh when the love spills over
And music fills the night
And when you can’t contain your joy inside
Then dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus and live
With your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory’s side
And fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live
Untitled Hymn by Chris Rice
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