I CHRONICLE THIS EVENT

A Christian Blog on Loss and Grieving
Our Turn, Week 4 of 8
emily ulman/14July25

Mom’s weekend is accompanied by another stoke, a severe one. Today, now bedridden, she can only weakly look at me, with recognition, and move her right hand to brush it against my cheek, in tender motherly affection. Her aide lifts a strawed drink to her mouth, she can sip only a little. On this cold Tuesday evening, her large family lovingly fills her bedside.

Wednesday morning, Mom is no longer alert. Most of the day I sit by her bed holding her hand. Mom’s hand tightly grasps the hand of her daughter, in a shared diligence to fill her last hours with nearness. I play favorite gospel hymns on my phone, laying it next to her ear, drowning out the news broadcasting blaringly from her roommate’s TV. It’s inauguration week. My pastor kindly visits and prays. Mom’s priest kindly visits and prays. Her hospice nurse and aide stop by, I see their care. In the late afternoon my nieces come in to sit with their grandma. Taking this opportunity to head home, I’m comforted that Mom isn’t alone.

Thursday, early, I head straight to Mom’s side. No improvement. I’m told she’ll be moved this day, for calm and privacy, to the tranquil room at the front of the hall. Our turn to take up residence in the passing space has come.

Once settled in I again sit by her bed. In the quiet of this winter morning, I am attempting to process where we are. Next time I return home, it will be after she’s gone on to everlasting. My own remaining days, for the first time ever, to be faced without my dear mother.

How do we face the facing of our remaining days, forever changed? For my family, we face this time together, gathered, united by our love for Mom and the love of family, instilled by her lifelong example. For me, knowing that even now, even here, Mom is surrounded in the love of our common Savior, this is my comfort. Christ is my comfort. Paul’s words come to mind from the book of Philippians, who having a desire to depart and be with Christ says, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (1:21 NASB). Mom’s dying is for her gain, and my living, for me is to Christ. And so, until my Savior calls my own spirit home to Himself, I keep on in this flesh. Possible only in the strength He gives for each day. Continuing to grow in Him, together we face each new day, each new life happening. He is my only way, who gives life to all and breath and all things (see Acts 17:24-31).

***