..marks the 2nd anniversary of my mother’s death.  A lot has happened since she passed away two years ago.

My son was five months old when she passed away, he never got to know his grandma very well, although she had visited him twice (once at his birth, second a month and a half before her death) he sees himself in pictures with her, but he does not comprehend who she is, yet.

I still remember the day as if it were yesterday, sitting in her hospital room and she was not conscious, she had been lucid and talking the day prior.  Some say that she held on until I arrived from MN, I at least was able to give her a hug, talk to her briefly, tell her that I loved her, but shortly thereafter she just laid there and was not responsive.  She died a slow death, without any pain as far as we can know.  But there was and in someways is pain in her loss on our side.  I am glad that my last words to her and hers to me were expressions of love and not hate or bitterness.

It was hard sitting in the hospital room watching her literally die right before our eyes, but I am glad that I was there.  I learned a lot in the process.

There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about her and the many good memories that she was a part of.  I am truly thankful she lived long enough to see me graduate from high school and college,  she was present at my wedding and had a part in paying for some thing (pictures, etc.) and that she was there when Joseph was born and when we buried Jonathan.

My mother was a believer, but in the last years of her life faced some significant theological struggles regarding what she believed.  Some of those struggles were borne out of some bad experiences in a Baptist church.  I never raised the issue much, but I knew where and why it had arisen.

I miss mom, but I also miss that my son did not get to enjoy her more than he did.


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