Only a few days left. I remember those last few days.
We brought her home for the end. After days of visitors, worship, joy, laughter, tears, poems and goodbyes, Mom faded into a husk, unmoving on the bed except for sudden, startling breaths. Each one a shock. Each pause after a breath, a waiting. Was that it? The last one? I couldn't breathe until I heard her shuddering intake.
My husband arrived after she'd lost consciousness. One of the kindest things he's ever done for me or for my family was sitting that final vigil. Those last couple days it was too hard to be in the same room with Mom. He remained. Often alone in the room, with her. Waiting. Patient. Quiet. Unafraid.
After two long days of this, my Mom's mom came with a few of the sisters. Saturday, September 27, 2007. When her mom came in the room and spoke, my Mom stirred on the bed for the first time in days. It was just a stirring. Her eyes never opened, she didn't speak. But her mother's voice reached her on that final journey.
Eventually we all gathered downstairs while Jrex and Aunt Bird sat vigil in my parents' room. They chatted quietly about all sorts of things. Aunt Bird was talking while Jrex counted. After three-minutes had passed he quietly interrupted to say, "She's gone."