My Mom

Well, I’ve missed a lot around here lately. I was back in Philadelphia, where my mother, Marie, passed away peacefully last week at age 71.

She was too weak to undergo a second operation, but strong enough to stay with us a few weeks longer so we could all say goodbye, and slowly get used to the thought of living on without her. That’s the way she was, giving much more than she took.

It was difficult, of course, but thoroughly proper in that old-fashioned way before this age of pulling tubes and plugs, gathered about her bedside singing songs, retelling our family stories, catching up for the last time, and sharing lots of smiles and laughs and kisses.

She said that it sounded strange, but she had some very, very happy times in those last few weeks. I know what she meant. There are a few selfish tears of loss, but mostly the ones that come in the face of those rare moments of crystal clear yet incomprehensible beauty.

Please let me thank you all for the warm thoughts sent our way through this, and close off the comments for this post. A quick prayer would be appreciated. Sleep in peace, Mom, until I come to thee.

“When you find a moment of happiness, bask yourself in it. Roll around in it and enjoy it. Promise me you will.

And when the bad times come—and everyone has their time on the fence—you take it one day at a time. That’s all there is for it.”
Marie O. Dyke

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