“My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.”
A week after gathering with family to celebrate my mom’s 95th birthday, I headed back home to join others in a vigil at her bedside in a hospice room at the nursing home that has been her home for nearly nine years. Eight days after she turned 95 years old, my mom peacefully passed away on February 28—my dad’s birthday. Leaving her earthly existence on that particular day seemed fitting and brought her loved ones a smile.
I was one of five family members in the room when she took her final breaths. It is something I will never forget and a profound experience to witness. Not all passings are peaceful, but I am so very grateful that Mom’s was.
I have been telling her for years “It’s okay to let go Mom.” The finality of it now is still reaching my core. No matter one’s age, and whether or not the relationship was close, losing a parent is significant.
Her final days included various visitors(from great-grandchildren to fellow residents), stories shared, singing, saying the rosary, connections made across the miles. Precious moments and cherished time. I choose to believe that she knew we were there and felt our presence. I know I felt hers.
In the following days and through her visitation and funeral, there was treasured family time for my siblings and I, and our families. We gathered to reminisce, plan, grieve, laugh, learn; supporting one another while still having our own individual experiences with it all. And we ate. Mom always made sure no one went hungry. It was her love language I guess. We take after her that way.
The collage above captures some of my favorite pictures of Mom. Her and Dad on their 25th wedding anniversary in 1975. Her with her younger sister Helen on a motorbike. Helen is now the sole surviving family member of her generation. I am grateful she was one of Mom’s last visitors in her final hours.
Mom at the sink in her house, with my son Sam helping her wash dishes. I am so grateful Sam knew his grandma and has fond memories of time on the farm with her. Her casket at her burial. I sat a few feet away looking up at the beautiful flowers and the vibrant blue sky. Blue was Mom’s favorite color. I thought of her soul heading into the great blue yonder and I felt some peace.
And a page from one of her earlier journals, given to her by my sister Danita. She offers some of her own most important life lessons. I appreciate each one. As her belongings were being moved to the hospice room, Mom’s most recent journals surfaced. She had written in the last ones in her first couple of years at the nursing home, before her fingers and advancing dementia could no longer capture words on a page. Her final entries were from 2019. It was hard to see her decline on those pages, just as it was hard to see when I visited. The grieving process has been ongoing, as her dementia deepened.
There is more grieving, but there is also peace and joy, knowing she is truly resting now. At Mom’s funeral, my niece Katie so beautifully sang “Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone"). The line “My chains are gone, I’ve been set free” will always pull the most on my heart.
Mom ended many of her journal entries with “Thank you for today.” Today is all we get. I take Mom’s lessons with me into the day ahead, holding abundant gratitude for being part of the legacy she leaves. Rest in peace Mom.
