My Siblings and I Discovered Something Remarkable After Our Mom Died
It told me exactly what kind of mom I wanted to be
I sit with my mom. Her trim frame has withered to a mere 70 pounds. Alzheimer's has ravaged her brain and subsequently attacked the rest of her body.
I think she would be happy to leave the world this way.
She is nestled comfortably in the home of my sister.
The people she loves are sifting in and out of the house. They are coming to sit with her and say their goodbyes. Her beloved music plays softly in the background.
The faint rush of a fan ushers additional comfort.
I am young in my twenties and not ready to let her go.
We’ve had many scares these past several years. There have been numerous times we thought we would lose my Mother. But she always pulls through.
This feels different.
I have an overwhelming sense that today will be the day.
I gaze at the clock.
I realize there is only one more hour left in the day. I grab my Mom’s hand. She has held my hand through every happy, secure, difficult, or momentous moment in my life.
She has held my hand in life.
I will hold her hand as she leaves it.
Tears overwhelm me. I think I should pray as I hold my Irish Catholic Mother’s hand. It should be her favorite prayer. The Memorare. She is devoted to the Blessed Mother.
My Mother’s brother walks into the room followed by my sister.
He has been a steady and loving presence in our lives.
A Catholic priest I jokingly refer to who has been like a father to me. Pun intended. He has been a wonderful brother to my Mother especially once she became a single parent.
I am comforted by their presence.
My sister goes to the left of me and my uncle to the right. It is no sooner that they take their place that my uncle speaks the unspeakable. The words I have long dreaded.
“She’s left us,” my uncle says.
I scream.
A few minutes later I speak words I am unprepared for.
“I’m all alone in the world,” I say.
“Colleen,” says my uncle. “You’re not alone. I am here for you.”
I am too young to realize this is the signature response of losing this one person who makes your entire world feel safe. This one person who loves you more than anyone in this world.
I am in my twenties but I am married.
Yet I feel utterly and completely alone after losing this wondrous woman.
A few weeks later my sisters and I meet back at my sister’s house.
We have sent our Mom off in a fashion befitting her. It was a beautiful church service followed by Irish bagpipers and an Irish flag. The church ladies showed up and made sure all were well-fed.
There was laughter, love, and tears.
We are certain our Mom would have approved.
We place the five pieces of jewelry our Mother wore on the coffee table. These are intensely personal pieces. They aren’t just her baubles. They are the treasured jewels she chose to wear nearly every day.
Her four daughters stare at the pieces before them. We decide we will also choose a piece for our brother’s beautiful wife.
My oldest sister breaks the silence.
“I’m going to take Mom’s pearls because I was Mom’s favorite,” she says.
In utter shock and complete unison, my other sisters and I say…
“I was Mom’s favorite.”
The four of us burst out laughing.
Our incredible Mother made each of us believe (without the others suspecting) that we were each her favorite. Our Mom loved that well. And it went without saying, that her one precious baby boy was her favorite.
He was even his four sisters' favorite.
No competition there.
I knew in that moment, I wanted to love as my Mother had loved.
I wanted to be the kind of Mom that made each of her children feel so incredibly cherished that they had to be her favorite. Without ever having an inkling of sibling rivalry.
It was remarkable.
And something we didn’t discover until after we lost our Mother.
A quiet yet powerful victory and testimony to motherhood.