A Few Moments of Beauty

My wife and I recently made a trip to visit my parents in Colorado. We went because it was beyond time for me to go see my mother, and I had put it off for far too long. My mother is currently suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s disease, which has essentially stolen my mother from those who love her the most. Needless to say, I was very much hesitant to go.

What can someone say when they look into their mother’s eyes and see endless confusion and fear? Those are the moments that leave you silenced by a lack of anything meaningful to say. There simply are no words that can adequately describe that anguish.

The day we arrived, my stepdad drove my mother out to us, and took us to dinner. This was one of the points where the trip came into focus. I was not there just to see my mother, I was also there to see my stepdad and let him know that he is not suffering alone. It was the first time we had spoken in this manner, and it made me realize that I had been deeply unfair to him for many years.

Over the course of the next few days, we spent a great deal of time with them. We also got a much needed break from our kids, and even got to enjoy a mini-honeymoon (we didn’t get to have a real one). Overall, it was a good trip. We even got to have dinner with my sister and brother-in-law, and left with some of my childhood pictures, which we plan on having scanned and stored.

Earlier this week, I took a call from my sister. I was at work, but it was so unusual for her to call me during the day that I had to answer. She had called to tell me that our mother is dying, and that she is not expected to make it through the week. Her condition is deteriorating so rapidly, no one can do anything about it.

I am faced with the very real prospect of flying out to sit with my mother as she leaves this world, and it is tearing me apart. No matter how many times I remind myself that she is going to be with the Lord, and that her mind will be clear and sharp, it does not seem to dull the ache. I guess it not meant to.

I want you folks to do one simple thing. If you are still able to do so, give your mothers a big hug, and thank them for giving you life. Do not allow such an opportunity to pass you by. You never know when you will have the chance to do it again, if you do in fact get a chance. In so doing, you will create a few moments of true beauty.


3 thoughts on “A Few Moments of Beauty

  1. Well written.
    My Mom just passed in May of last year. I was able to say Hi and Bye.

    She was in a hospital and being a very bad patient. She was stone dead, and thought we had dumped her there to die. She fought tooth and nail to prove to everyone she was not going to die. I was kind of surprised no one (even my sisters) was writing her notes to communicate with her. They were talking, but she could not read lips.

    Hee hee hee, she even escaped her straps, and sat in a chair. Quite a feet considering the condition of her heart and lungs.

    Anyway, they released her home to the care of my oldest sister, and three days later, died. At home. In bed. Just the way she wanted to go. She finally made peace with God, I am am convinced she is born again, in the presence of Jesus.

    My Dad has Parkinson’s disease. It is affecting his body and mind. He is in good hands with my sister, but I don’t think is saved. I have given the Gospel, but neither my sisters nor my Dad have responded.

    God never made us for death. We were initially built to last forever. We chose another way. Death is now our wages from our sin.

    Not looking forward to Dad’s death.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You have my simpathies. Blessings to you and your family during your grief.

    By the way, my mother was stone DEAF. Auto spell correct changed it to “dead”
    Love/hate spell correct.


  3. Thank you for that, Jim. All any of us can do is share the Gospel. From that point, it’s between them and the Holy Spirit. All things with your dad will unfold as they will, all you can do is pray.

    My mother’s Alzheimer’s took her down quickly. At the moment, I’m sitting in her room. While I know that her mind isn’t aware of us, I also know that her spirit is absolutely aware, and I’m sure she finds comfort in the presence of her husband and children. In some way, it’s a blessing because she had suffered so much trauma in her life, she now has a measure of peace.

    Now, it’s simply a waiting game for us. It’s between her and the Lord, we are merely spectators. I will say this, I admire my stepdad for the way he has stood by her through it all. He has taken her to every appointment, stayed on top of her meds, sought every treatment he could find, and simply been exactly what the Lord demands of us as husbands.

    You can’t ask for anything more than that. Even now, he still fights for her. He had to have it out with the facility administration over an issue with insurance, and he went at them full bore to ensure that no one messes with her. It’s nothing short of amazing.


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