I flew into PIT for the last time 7 years ago this evening. My mission was the most difficult of my adult life to date--saying good-bye to my sweet mom. I'm ashamed to admit a total loss of rational behavior on the way to the Atlanta airport as I screamed that I was not prepared or equipped for such a task. David dropped me off at the kiosk. While fumbling to find my flight info, I bluntly told the airline attendant, that I was going home to see my mom die. He came around from behind the counter, took my arm, and helped me find my way through security. The two-hour flight to Pittsburgh seemed forever. I couldn't even seem to find my manners as the man sitting to my left tried to make conversation as I sat in the window seat staring into nothingness. Finally, I looked at him and said, "I'm going home to see my mom die." He reached over, picked up my hand, and began praying. My brother picked me up at the airport and we drove the few blocks to the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, where Mom had been for just a short time. We met my sister and walked down the dimly lit hallway to her room in the ICU. My oldest brother arrived shortly; the doctor confirmed our decision and left us alone with mom while the machines continued to sound out their information, which was so eerily normal. A couple of nurses asked for few minutes alone with mom to extubate her and give her some medications to make her more comfortable. We agreed. Soon they came to get us. My sister and I entered the room. It was silent now, just the monitor quietly screaming an abnormal heart rhythm. I kicked the chair close to her bed so that I could climb up into the bed, which was elevated. I wrapped my arm under her head and neck; my sister on one side and I on the other. Within a few moments, she was gone.
Gone, but not lost, I remind myself. For, I know exactly where she is.
Why can't you let this day go, someone said to me recently. It was an innocent question. Not intended to be unkind.
It's a place to remember grace.
In the midst of such darkness and difficulty. I found that God met me, even there. Grace, from the airline attendant, who guided me through my confusion to get to my gate. Grace in the stranger, who held my hand and prayed for me. Grace in the arms of my granny that night as I wept like a toddler. Grace, in those who surrounded my family here with such support and love while I was flying back and forth to Pittsburgh, the two weeks prior. Grace found in the tenderness of my husband and young sons, patiently loving me through the grief. These are just a few of the places where I found grace. Yes, I'm still sad sometimes. I miss her terribly, but God's grace meets me here in my present sadness, with a hope for a brighter tomorrow. A day when I'll embrace her again, and I'll never have to say goodbye again. Grace. It's my story.
Psalm 147:3
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