Reflections Upon theDeath of My Mother:

Straight AheadI intend this material to be not so much a journal of my life as a journal of my thoughts. The events of the past few weeks, however, cannot beseparated from the thoughts they bring to mind. I often use the end of the old year and the beginning of a new one as a time for reflection; but how does one reflect upon the death of his mother? It could even be argued that somethingso serious, so traumatic, is not appropriate material for a mere blog. And yet, since my writing and my time in cyber-space is so much a part of my life now, it would really be quite strange if such a significant happening, with all the accompanying ruminations, did not find its way into my blog. My mother died peacefully in a Nashville, Tennessee, nursing home on Sunday morning, December 17, just one day after the car accident I mentioned in my last entry. Her decline was very swift and rather sudden. A month before her death, blood tests had shown no indications of the impending crisis. On Thanksgiving night, she had watched the full three-hour video of "The Sound of Music" with my wife Lydia, and thoroughly enjoyed it. She had been weak, and Lydia prepared Thanksgiving dinner--steak, not turkey! On November 29, my mother went into the hospital to find out why she continued to be weak. Her breathing problems had not eased. A few days later, it was discovered that she had an aggressive, leukemia-like cancer. Less than two weeks after that grim discovery, she was gone. I still can't quite believe it! But as a long-time friend of the family said, "There's no tragedy in this. There's sadness, but no tragedy. She lived a great life!" He was quite right. As a Christian, we know that my mother is now in heaven. As a practical matter, we know that she lived a rich and full life while on earth. Yet, we cannot help but miss her, and grieve, and shed some tears. I'm thankful for the times she scolded and nagged me. I'm sure there were instances when she thought I had bitten off more than I could chew---times she wondered if I knew what I was doing. Those aren't the things I remember now, though. Now, I remember the good times, the laughing, the playfulness. I always teased my mother unmercifully about the time she stepped off a ladder on to my plastic dog and broke it all to pieces. Never mind that I had carelessly left it in the middle of the floor in my bedroom while she was painting that room. I must have been five or six years old. (The dog even had a little yiping bark when you pushed his head down.) My mother learned Braille so that I could have my Latin, German, and Spanish books in accessible formats. She sat in the living room quietly with me one day after I had done poorly on a biology test in high school. She knew I had worked hard and done my best, and that I was extremely disappointed. I remember the graduation dinner my parents and I had when I finished my years at Davidson College. When my mother realized how serious I was about Lydia during my final year in seminary, she asked, "What would happen if you gave Lydia a big kiss when she meets you at the airport?" Today, I think of the practical jokes she occasionally played on me, and the inside private jokes and understandings we had that nobody else shared. Those are the little things that bring the tears. Those are the things I'll miss the most. And I'll miss her pound cake, and all those dinners of roast beef with rice and gravy! When someone dies, we tend to want to make the person out to be almost super-human. I don't need to do that for my mother. I want to remember her as she truly was. She turned 80 years old in the hospital on December 9. As part of the natural process of life, most of us will lose our parents, and many of us will lose a spouse. Life must go on. I remember my mother for her playfulness, her compassion, her social graces, and for the amazing task she and my father had of raising a blind son to live a normal life. I pray that my mother was not disappointed with me. I certainly was not disappointed with her. I thank God for a mother who, with the help and support of my father, did everything possible to instill courage, confidence, and the Christian faith in their son. I remember, even as a little boy, my mother reading Bible stories to me. In the stories, there was always a little boy named Bobby and his mother who learned about Jesus and God. Of course, after Mother read those stories to me, we got to the "Tawny, Scrawny, Lion" or my other favorites. I was always impatient to get to the "fun stuff." But I'm glad she read to me about the little boy and his mother who shared the Christian faith. I guess that pretty well says all that's really important about my mother. Now, while we look forward to 2007, she can look forward to an eternity in the presence of the God she loved.