“Just Love”: My Dying Mother’s Final Words

“JUST LOVE“

These were the final words my dear Mom spoke to me before she died one year ago of metastatic breast cancer. Two words, so simple, yet so profound on every level; two words that have carried me & impacted my grieving heart and soul so much over the past year.

Losing a parent is so very difficult and watching them die slowly while feeling so helpless is beyond the beyond. Watching your parent ( and best friend in life) suffer and be so sick from cancer is heartbreaking. There are no words. Death is ugly. It is harder than hard. It is hell on earth to watch. BUT, it is an integral part of the life cycle. AND, if we are lucky enough, we have the gift of time to say goodbye and to witness what is also a beautiful blessing firsthand watching a loved one cross over into the spiritual world.

I remember praying to God, asking him in my Mom’s final hours to free her from the relentless pain and suffering. The night I couldn’t bear to watch her suffer anymore, was the night and early morning hours my Mom took her final breaths. My wish was granted. Selfishly, I wanted her to stay with me and my family forever, yet I wanted her to be free at last from the evil grips of cancer she battled for close to two years. I grieved hard the six weeks before my Mom’s death and I often laid next to her in her hospice bed, cradling her and loving on her in every way possible in every way I could around caring for my family at home 24-7 too. It was an exhausting and emotional time. 

Family members and I would take turns preparing medication and administering. Changing bedding and changing clothes. Calling loved ones so they could hear my Mom’s voice or Face Time her before she died. Rubbing her back and feet and legs. Curling her hair and helping her feel beautiful by putting on makeup while she wasted away in her hospice bed. Helping change her diaper and cool her feverish body with cool rags. Dabbing moisture and ice chips insider her dry mouth and on her parched lips. Playing her favorite music and telling her favorite stories. Crying with her and praying with her. Holding a bucket and holding back her hair while she vomited, in the loving way that she always did when I was sick as a child. Thanking her for all that she did. Telling her all of the things. No regrets. Say anything. Say everything. Time is of the essence.

Even in my Mom’s darkest hours, when cancer had taken over everybody function, my Mom had moments of amazing clarity, grace, vision, insight & humor. She would fall in and out of consciousness in her final days and hours and as I sat vigil, she was still teaching me the ways of life. She was seeing and talking to loved ones who had passed before her; it was simply amazing and beautiful to witness firsthand. She spoke of seeing light and those of us with her are convinced that she was seeing angels.  

As she transitioned between this earthly world into the spiritual world, she squeezed my hand tightly and shot her weak and fragile body straight up in bed with a power and force that only God could give her (given she had not eaten or drank in almost 2 weeks at that point)…and with fixated and intentional eyes she asked me, “Have you been there? ”

“To heaven?” I asked…then I paused and realized at that moment I did not need an answer; of course, she was referring to heaven.  I realized at that moment I had been called to help my Mom let go of her ties here on earth. I had read somewhere in my social work training years back that loved ones often need permission to die when they are on their deathbeds. Some will hold on and wait to see out of town loved ones before they pass, and this was true for my Mom too. It is often a difficult and fearful transition facing death. My mom didn’t want to leave me or her loved ones, but I knew that I had to be strong for her and help her at that moment in question…

“Yes, Mama. I’ve been there. We’ve all been there. It’s beautiful. We all come from there and we all end up there. We will all be together in Heaven again. It’s ok Mama. You are going to God. He is waiting for you. We are all going to be fine. You will be with us always.” It was as if the words were pre-scripted, yet they weren’t. They flowed effortlessly from my heart and soul as if God were feeding me with the exact words that my Mom needed to hear to help ease her grip on this lifetime and all the people who she loved here on earth.

I paused and asked my Mom one last question while choking back the tears. “Is there anything you need Mama?” Her body relaxed and her eyes gazed lovingly above as if she were looking straight into the eyes of God. I felt an out of body, surreal and warm presence. I felt in that moment, a profound peace for both of us; an unspoken understanding. A gentle and painful, goodbye, which felt more like, “I’ll see you later.”

My Mom replied in a quiet whisper with a peaceful smile on her face and tears in her eyes, “Just Love. ” Then she closed her eyes and drifted off into a state of unconsciousness again…and I knew that was it; our final mother-daughter exchange.

With tears rolling down my cheeks and my heart pounding and breaking at the same time, I had to learn to say goodbye and let go of the woman I loved most in life. I still bawl like a baby remembering this last conversation and it has taken me a full year to process all that happened during those final days and hours with my Mom. I know my Mom was sharing a final gift with me and I feel blessed to have these words imprinted in my heart forever. Her gift of Just Love carries on…

As much as I didn’t want to be initiated into this secret club of losing a parent so soon in life, I can empathize more deeply now with those who are in this club too. It’s a secret club of loss you just can’t fully grasp or understand until you have experienced such a profound loss yourself. Just like we don’t really understand what it is truly like to be a parent until we become one ourselves. No words make it better. No words take the place of the deep irreplaceable love you have for your parent. No words will ever make the pain go away. Yes, the raw heartache dulls with time and the grief & loss waves ebb & flow. Something will trigger a memory of your loved one passed and you find yourself knocked over by the wave of grief and all you can do is cry. And if you are lucky, you have a friend who has been there and can hold your hand, without saying a word and just feel the depths of your grief with you. A friend who will quietly show up at your mom’s funeral to pay respect, not because they knew her, but because they know you and want to support you. A friend who delivers a meal or a special gift and the finest bottle of wine. A friend who offers to take your kids, so you can spend the day ugly crying in solitude. A friend who just knows, no words will ever make things right again in your world. A friend who just shows up and just loves you through the hard times. Just Love takes precedent when words cannot…

I’ve learned that while so many people have good intentions after someone dies, their world moves on as usual in their normal fast pace. For those grieving, time slows & there is no time limit to ‘getting over it’. The truth is, you just don’t ever get over it. I’ve learned to embrace my grief like I embrace my children; with tenderness, love, and loads of grace. Knowing that at any time, the wave of grief might need to plop itself in my lap and just be held. I can’t push it away or sweep it under a rug. 

I have learned how to allow the wave of grief to take me to calmer waters as of late…and in those calmer waters, I embrace the gift of life and my health and ability to care for my family; and the blessing of having had a mother who loved me unconditionally my entire forty-two years of life while she was here. A mother who taught me the gift of loving and caring for both the young and old, while modeling this example in her various roles throughout my childhood. She without a doubt helped mold me into the mother that I am today to my five children. The truth is, my Mom’s ultimate teaching was to teach me how to face the inevitable and mortal reality of illness and death….and to not be afraid. My family and I cherished every last moment with my sweet Mom with Just Love. Her final words remind me daily that this is how we must live our lives, not just at the end of life, but throughout our lives in the day to day.

Life is a cycle and we must learn how to embrace every day as a gift. Because it is…

“JUST LOVE“