Cheryl’s Tribute To Her Mother
Continuing the story of my Aunt Jo… The following article was written by my cousin Cheryl in tribute to her mother.
It is an expanded version of the thoughts she shared at her mother's memorial service.Her story is powerful, emotional and inspiring...
This is what I shared at my mother's memorial service.
Some of the last words my mother said to me were to tell me how special I was to her and how much she loved me. She and my father adopted me when she was twenty-nine years old. Her doctor had told her that carrying another child would be too much of a risk to her health so she chose to adopt because, as she said, she wanted a daughter.
In the last weeks of her life I drove from Austin to Houston every few days and spent the night at the hospital once a week with her. There was someone from our church or family with her twenty-four hours a day. She was in so much pain during this time that all I could do was brace myself for a night of staring helplessly at her, as she could not find a moment's peace. My mother, who always had the answer for any problem, was the source of my securitv. She taught me what relentless meant by fighting for every moment of life.
Could this even be happening? As I stood staring, I finallv admitted to
myself that she was not going to win this battle. At least not win it the way
I needed her to. I needed her to look at me and reassure me that she would
always be there for me and that this was just another hospital stay and this was
just like the triple bypass, the hip replacement, the several surgeries ensuing the hip replacement, the hand amputation and all the other procedures she had endured, and that she would be coming home.
I wanted to be able to hear her laugh and talk to our family cat that she adored. I wanted her to ask me to sit on her bed in the morning while she drank the coffee I brought her. I wanted to feel her put her arms around rne. I swore that I would do anvthing, anything at all if she did not die. I would quit my job and move home, be a better daughter, go to church more, live the way she had always wanted me to. I would do anything if she would just stay alive.
I felt so scared. What would life be like without her? How could I ever be happy? Why had I ever fought with her? What were the fights even about? I could not remember.
Whv hadn't I said all the things I wanted to sav now, before? Does she know how much I love her? Did she realize that when I was twelve and said I hated her that I didn't ever mean it? Why had I pulled away from her so much?
Around three o'clock in the morning when all her pain medication finally gave her a reprieve, she looked over and asked me to sit next to her so that she could see me. She told me, "The dav that the lawyer brought you to us, there were so many people at our home waiting for you." I had heard this story a million times, but this time I opened myself up and listened. I knew that it would be the last time I might ever hear her tell it. I had often wondered why she told it to me over and over, but I finally understood that she wanted me to remember how important a day it had been for her.
She went on to tell me how it had all been part of God's plan. I was meant to be her daughter and she was meant to be my mother. She expressed gratitude to my biological mother for giving me to her.
I finally broke down and cried out, "You are my mother. The only one that I have ever wanted and I do not know what I will do without you!" She began to crv and said, "You still have vour father and vour brother."
"It will not be the same," I said.
"I know," she smiled, "I know." She asked me to promise her that I would be happy. She said that one day there would be a man in my life who would love me as I deserved, but that no one would ever love me as much as she did.
She was not afraid to die. She knew that God would take care of her. I thought to myself how amazing my mother was because I was mad at God. So mad that at the time I did not want to even think about Him. What was He doing? This is something that I still struggle with. My father, brother, her sister and I were able to see her before her last amputation. I was crying and she simply smied and said, "No tears."
We have come together today out of love and respect for the most important woman in my family's life, my mother. The pride I feel for being her daughter extends beyond my ability to measure and at the same time, the loss I feel is sometimes unbearable.
The comfort that sustains our family comes from knowing that she is no longer suffering as she did for so long and also from the memories we have been able to share and the prayers that have been said on her and our behalf. Although my fear of this very day has been with me for far too long,
I have to fall back on what she has told me so many times before: "Stand up, be strong," she would say, "and do what you know in vour heart is right."
What my heart tells me is right today, is very simple. Ensure that she is remembered for the amazing force that she was her whole life, not what her illness tried to make her. I watched my mother-- with her engaging smile even when her pain was immense-- greet people who came to visit or stay with her in the hospital.
She would tell the women how prettv they looked, or just how good it was to see them. She would tell the nurses she appreciated their care. I watched her reach up and touch one young nurse on the face and tell her how beau6ful she was. She always made people around her feel happy.
My mother always told me how valuable good friends were and that if you were lucky enough you would have a few on whom you could always depend on. Please look around to see how many of you are here today. I ask you, how lucky was my mother? Feel blessed that you have been touched by one of the kindest souls this world has ever known. You have touched her life as well.
If she were here, she would hug each one of you and thank you for loving and caring for her and her family. Remember the good times of friendship and games, weddings and birthday parties. When you see her favorite things like elephants, giraffes, lighthouses and roses, think of her and feel joy that you knew her and that she is in a better place, free from pain.
Remember she was an artist, she loved to travel, and Barbara Streisand was her favorite singer. Remember she was always a Dallas Cowboys fan, even when they could not win a game. Remember her wonderful laugh.
Please remind her grandchildren how in love she was with them. She always said that you could never tell a child you loved them too often.
My mother passed away with the same grace with which she lived her whole life. We can continue on with the lessons she taught us. We can love each other, help each other and always be patient with each other. Brighten someone's day and never take for granted a day that we are healthy.
May I say one more time how proud my brother and I are to call her our mother. What a bittersweet day.
-- Cheryl Delane Robinson
Posted by on 06/25 at 04:16 PM