Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child...

But not all the time. At least, not yet. Right now, I feel as though I am cocooned in denial and brain fog. I know that my Mom is no longer with me, but my heart likes to pretend that she is just down the hall in her room watching TV and eating Cheetoes.

Seven days.

It's been seven days since my Mama breathed her last breath.

Even though we had been losing her in bits and pieces for months, when the end finally came, she left us much too quickly.

I really don't blame her. She had reached a point where it was hard for us to imagine how she could continue on. Yet, we could never really imagine saying Goodbye...

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My oldest son and his family had gone back to Mexico after the holidays, knowing when they left they probably wouldn't be seeing their MiMi / GranMiMi again.

The night before leaving, my 10 year old G-girl crawled up in my lap and laid her head upon my shoulder. “I don't want GranMiMi to die.” she said, sadly.

“Neither do I, sweet girl. But her little body is just worn out. And just think... when she gets to heaven she'll be able to walk again! She'll be with her Mama again! And I know she can hardly wait to dance with my Daddy. So even though we will miss her... we have to love her enough to let her go.”

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Early Friday morning I heard Mom calling out to my Dad. “Paul...? Paul...? Why don't you get me?” I sat quiet as a mouse in my chair, hoping not to disturb the rarified air.

About an hour later, she called out again. This time with more agitation: “Mother...? Mother...?” I leaned over her and tried to comfort her. “Do you see Flodie, Mama? Are you talking to her...?”

She turned her head toward my voice, cracked one eye open, saw my face and said...

“Crap. I'm not in heaven, yet.”

The sassy look in her eyes was a gift. She had been in and out of consciousness for the past few days. But this morning – her last morning – God had opened a little window with my Mama. She was present and accounted for. And more than just a little hacked off.

“What am I doing wrong?” she asked in frustration.

“You're not doing anything wrong, Mom. God is taking His sweet time. I'm okay with that... I don't mind keeping you with me a little longer.”

“Do you think that maybe I'm not dying? Maybe I just have a really bad case of pneumonia?”

“I don't think so, Mom,”

“Well, this is just crazy. I need to either stay here or go there. Why doesn't Paul come and get me??”

“Because this is God's show, Mom. Even Daddy has to wait on God.”

“Well, they need to hurry. This is crazy.”

“Are you hurting? Is anything bothering you?”

“No. This is just crazy. Y'all are gonna be really psyched when I finally die.”

My youngest son, Jacob, heard us talking and came into the room.

“Hey, MiMi... do you need anything?”

“I need to die!” she said.

“Don't worry, MiMi, God's got this. What will make you feel better? You want a cigarette?”

“Yes!” she replied.

“Uh, she's on 4 liters of oxygen”, I replied. “So, there's that...”

“See how bossy she is?!” Mom groused to her grandson.

A few moments later, she heard Jacob's voice in the hall as he was leaving.

“Luke?” she said. “Is that Luke?”

“No, Mom. Luke went back to Mexico, remember? Do you want him to come back?”

“Of course not! I just saw him a few weeks ago.”

“Well, why don't we call him and tell him?” I suggested. “He's having a hard time deciding what to do.”

I called Luke and told him his MiMi wanted to talk to him. I put the phone up to her ear, expecting her to convince him not to return.

“Luke! They won't let me die! You gotta come here and sit on my face!”

“Uh, Mom... that's not exactly what we were gonna tell him," I cringed.

As Luke laughed into the phone, Mom said, “Luke, I don't want you to come back for my funeral. I don't plan on being there, either.

They spoke a few minutes more, then the Dickman entered her room.

“You know what I'm gonna do, Mrs. Cooper? I'm gonna steal some of your chocolate.”

“Go ahead. Eat all you want. But you're not allowed to have a bowel movement until I am allowed to die.”

He looked at me and I just shrugged my shoulders. “She's a little pissy because she didn't wake up in heaven. And Dad is in big trouble.”

Mom began to grow more restless and I gave her medicine to calm her.

As I held a straw up to her lips for a sip of water, she stopped mid-drink and said, “Who's that?”

“Nobody. It's just you and me, Mom.”

“There's somebody in that corner...” she said, gazing intently across the room.

“Who does it look like?” I asked.

“Paul...?” she said uncertainly.

“Mom... do you see Daddy?”

“Maybe...”

Her eyes began to dart around the room with a bemused expression on her face.

“Who are all these people?” She asked.

“Mom... I think you must be seeing angels.”

She never replied, but kept looking around the room with the most beautiful expression on her face, until she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

A few hours later, my Mama followed her angels to heaven.

The hospice nurses had just finished bathing her before she passed. Even our angel nurse was surprised by the rapid change. She declared Mom's time of death as 2:09 PM, then went out to her car and returned with a single red silk rose to lay on my sweet Mama's chest.

It swamps my heart to know there are nurses who carry roses in their car for patients who never get better, at least not on this side of heaven.

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My son, Luke, called me shortly after Mom passed.

“What a gift she gave me, Mom! What a wonderful gift to talk and laugh with Mimi, just hours before she passed!"

"Oh, and Mom, Mandie has a message for you... she wanted me to tell you this:  sometimes you have to love enough to let them go.”