Thoughts: September Mourning #3

7AM Phone Call: One of my Sistafriends mom had just been rushed to St. Joe's with a stroke. She was already at work out of the city and she couldn't get ahold of her actual sisters so she called me: could I please find my way to the hospital with the necessary toiletries for her mother? I said "sure", though it would take some time as I had no vehicle and would be riding my bike. (Remember I'd mentioned that for a couple of years now I don't drive during my mourning week? Well, this is the time the car goes in for it's repairs/check up etc. What better season than this, right?)

Now this is a really good sister that was there for me when my mom was ill and in hospital. She is the kind of friend that will got down on the floor with me to scrape the scum from behind my mothers stove--not that my mom was a slob, but at a certain age, regardless of how clean you may like things to be, you physically can't get to all the places you wished were cleaner. Knowing how my mom loved clean, my friend and I were preparing for her return home by doing the things she couldn't do for herself anymore. (Sadly, the day of my mom's funeral the folks slated to pick her up for the trek to Brampton forgot all about her in their own grief and my friend has never forgiven them for that. She ofttimes mentions how I must be there when her mom passes as she missed my mom's.)

So, I go shopping for my sistafriend's mom's toiletries (packed in a lovely little transparent plastic carrier case). Don't forget this was to be my stay-put kinda day, so I won't say I jumped to the task, but I arrived at the hospital as they were sending her mother back home. I'm not ashamed to say I saw her and I hid. I didn't even want her to suggest my coming over to her home with her. Perhaps I could have my day of mourning back. The nurses saw me and I put my index finger to my lips indicating, that not a word of my presence was to be revealed to my friend's Mom.

Anyhow, the shocker to my friend was hearing that the same hour that her mom was going back home, her father, who had been battling lung cancer for the past 3 or 4 years and seemed to be in remission, had taken a turn for the worse. My friend called me to say she had received the follow-up messages I had left about her mother and to say that she was now heading over to her fathers place. Her father passed peacefully in her arms the next morning about 8:40 am: the same date, day and hour as my mother and at the same age (72). (Guess, they are not getting anymore than a smidgen above the three score and ten the Bible speaks.) I couldn't help feeling that even though my friend's parents have lived the last twenty plus years apart that her mother's stroke was related to her father's fading life and that their spiritual connection remained unsevered despite time and distance.

As I was coming out of my mourning week and back to reality, my friend was more than a little distraught. I recall being on my bike passing by her place at about midnight on the day her father had died. I had very little extra energy and I couldn't stop over to offer my condolences about her father, but I had promised to squeeze my bike horn as I rode by her place. I kept this promise and honked as I passed by. Out over the air came a "Thank you. I love you too.”

On the Friday of that week, I had planned a visit to my mother's gravesite. Since my friend had never seen my mother buried, I decided to ask her to come along. I would get her out of the city and we could do a little retail therapy in Brampton at the same time. It wasn't until we were at my mother's grave that my friend realized that it was my mourning anniversary. She freaked! Why hadn't I reminded her when she called me asking for help? I said because my stuff was old pain and hers was immediate. That's when she thanked me for honking my horn and said how sorry she was to have missed seeing me. She had been crying and by the time she got to her balcony, I was gone. So who had I heard calling out that they loved me?. Strange, eh? All I know is that the words came on time and made me feel loved.

We stood at mom's graveside arm in arm and sang "Till We Meet at Jesus Feet" as is etched on my mother's gravestone. Taking note that the flowers I'd planted there had since died, I will replace them soon, and after that I think, it's time for me to move forward. Mommy would have wanted me to. She was a woman that let nothing stand in her way. She would say God excused ignorance, but once you knew, once you got the lesson, just do better. One day we would all be held to account for what we knew and didn't live up to. So my pledge these days is to do more than say. To live and walk my own talk, and to be friend to those who show me love. It's no sacrifice; it is the reciprocity of real love.