On Getting Old -- 59

Yesterday morning on Higgins Rd. while driving to work [yes, I still work part time] I looked at the rearview mirror. Behind me loomed the sky, a brilliant magenta with the early morning sun breaking through. The forest preserve woods exploded in golden browns. A light rain left the air refreshing and clean. From the radio speakers Kurt Elling, a Chicago jazz singer, crooned.


What a wonderful way to start the day, I thought.

Not more than thirty minutes after entering the office, my cell phone rang. Gladys, the nurse at St. Matthew, informed me that my mother had passed away. I told her I would be there as quickly as I could.

The traffic on Rte 25 was incredibly bad. Finally, I turned onto the highway back to the city. Again I faced traffic tie ups. After only a mile of stop and go driving the traffic jam eased up and I drove the rest of the way to the nursing center without a problem.

Along the way my only thoughts were of Mom. I realized her health was declining for the past week or so, but I did not think she would go so fast.

Every little way along the walk in the corridor to Mom’s room a nurse or an aid stopped me for a big hug and a kind word. The hospice people gathered around me in Mom’s room. She lay in bed eyes closed as though she were sleeping without any labored breathing. With a kiss to her cheek, I felt the coolness of her face. Although I anticipated this moment, the occurrence left me empty and sad. The tears welled in my eyes, and I felt them stream down my cheeks.

Finally people left the room so I had some time with Mom alone, probably the last time alone with her. Over the months since she had been at St. Matthew, we were often alone and spoke of the old times -- when she grew up on the near North side of Chicago, her time on the farm in Covert, Michigan, her remembrances of things like the Columbian Exposition and Riverview. No longer will I hear her stories albeit very sketchy due to a failing memory.

I worried about Mom because she was afraid to be alone and afraid to travel to new places. How would she face this ultimate and final trip?

After I returned home I told Rosemary of everything that had happened. I told her how sad I was to start the day with such a happy event and then to have it destroyed with the loss of Mom.

She told me that my mother was telling me she had passed over and everything was fine and beautiful.

I realized my experience occurred about 7:45 AM. Gladys told me she discovered Mom during her rounds at 7:55 AM. Rosemary was absolutely correct. Mom told me she made her cross over and everything was beautiful.

Today the candy was not only bittersweet; it was coated with the pungency of tears. Never the less the candy tasted sweet as ever.

Thanks, Mom.

Ciao