Hindsight...A Reverse Vision

October 1st was to be a routine check-up at the doctor for Mom.  Even so, her anxiety level was off the charts.  She would fret and not sleep for days prior to any appointment concocting all kinds of ailments that the doctor could potentially discover and imagining only the worst scenarios.  For instance, before we went to the eye doctor last summer, she had convinced herself that a bothersome stye would need to be lanced and that they would demand to perform a needed cataract surgery.  While none of that occurred, the eye appointment was extremely traumatic and lengthy, and we were exhausted by the time it was over.

However, at the October appointment, her mind was set at ease when she learned her blood work numbers were still within the normal range as it related to her pre-diabetic condition.  

It was a cool, rainy fall-like morning, and after the follow-up appointment had been scheduled and Mom was settled in a chair in the waiting room, I hurried to the parking lot to bring the car up to the door.  I thought I had all the required items checked off my mental list for getting mom in the car...seat position all the way back and just at the right tilt, window down, fan on high, car pulled up to the building close enough so she didn't have to walk far but not too close that the handicap door wouldn't clear my car...check, check, check and check. I threw the car in park, clicked on the hazard flashers, and rushed around the car to be ready to take her walker out of her way and fold it up to put in the back seat.

Unfortunately, I had neglected to notice one critical prep point.  The car had a sheen of water droplets from the rain.  As Mom steadied herself using the top of the car to maneuver into the seat, her hand slipped. While she managed to get seated, she cried out.  "I heard a pop." she said..."Behind my knee."  I told her it was probably just her shoe scuffing against the pavement that she had heard...hoping it was all in her head.  But as the day went on, it was clear it was not in her head.  (Hindsight:  Eleven years ago, Mom had a period of inactivity after breaking her wrist followed by a pulmonary embolism that would've taken her life had Dad not called an ambulance immediately--the embolism was caused by a blood clot in her leg that broke loose and traveled up through her heart and lungs).

Knowing her anxiety over going to the doctor, we tried one home remedy after another...anti-inflammatory medication, hot packs, cold packs, Aspercreme, and extra time in her lift chair with her feet up.  But it just wasn't getting any better.

Her daily complaints of pain and anguish grew in intensity.  She was still managing to walk back and forth from her kitchen table to her lift chair, however, and I thought at least she's still moving and the more she moves, the sooner she will feel better.  As I grew more frustrated with not knowing how to best help her, she grew more anxious over the constant struggle to move and breathe.

I called my sister to enlist her thoughts on the situation, and we began to discuss assisted living options as I just felt I could no longer give Mom the necessary physical help in her own home.  I didn't tell Mom what we were thinking as I wanted to have everything in place before presenting her with a new care plan.  Feeling guilty about my thought processes, though, I began bringing Mom more and more comfort-type foods as well as pretty flowers for her counter and patio in an attempt to brighten her day and give her mind something else to focus on.

Her anxiety became so severe, that she was causing herself further stress and making herself physically sick. She began cancelling services I had in place to help her--like her home health aides and Meals-on-Wheels--saying she wasn't feeling up to it.  She would call me instead at 7:30 in the morning panicking about not being able to get comfortable or breathe normally.  I finally obtained a prescription for an anti-anxiety med to help her relax. That same day, she requested some cough medicine to break up what she thought was some congestion in her chest.  Unfortunately, all that the medicines did was knock her out to where she was doing more sleeping and less moving.  (Hindsight:  The beginning of congestive heart failure could have been causing the chest tightness and breathing trouble).

On Thursday, October 30, I called the County Health Nurse to come over and check mom's vitals since she seemed to be having so much trouble breathing.  The nurse took her blood pressure and temperature and checked her pulse-ox and listened to her lungs and heart.  I watched her write down all the numbers and conclude that all was normal.  This seemed to help mom relax a little, and I was glad we weren't needing to make a trip to the hospital.

On November 1st when I came over to bring Mom one of her favorite BK salads, I opened the refrigerator to find she hadn't eaten the two meals from the day before...she was sleeping in her chair at the time.  I left her a note saying that we needed to cut back on the anti-anxiety med and that we would be back to have supper with her around 6:00 p.m.  (Hindsight:  A sign of the body shutting down is not eating as much.  This should have been a big red flag, as Mom LOVED to eat).

At supper, Mom was uncharacteristically reserved and quiet, while my hubby and daughter and I chatted about the day.  I attributed her reserved nature to the combination of meds in her system and all the sleeping she was doing.  After supper, my family went home while I stayed to talk to mom about when she should take her medicine the next day.  She was over-the-top concerned about how the daylight savings time change was going to affect her sleeping schedule.  She seemed confused about the times she was supposed to take the medications, which was so unlike her.  I made a schedule on paper of when she would take what meds for the next week and left for home.  (Hindsight:  I think she knew something was terribly wrong and didn't want to alarm me or dwell on it herself, and that's why she was so quiet).

Two hours later, she called me at 10:15 p.m. to come back over as she was not able to make her lift chair work and had had trouble getting her TV to come on with the remote.  I rushed over, and stood next to her as she pressed the lever on the chair remote to make it rise.  All seemed fine, and I made sure she could get the chair to go back down as well.  (Hindsight:  I think she was losing feeling in her fingers as a result of whatever was happening internally and that's why she couldn't press the remote buttons or the chair button hard enough to activate it...on a subconscious level, I think she just wanted to see and talk to me one last time).

"I feel like such an idiot [for calling you over]," she said, as the chair seemed to now be working.  I told her she was not an idiot, gave her a hug, told her I loved her, and left for home. 

That would be the last conversation we would ever have.

As I look back on the sequence of events for the month of October, I've played and replayed the "what if" game and done a fair share of beating myself up over what I could have or should have done differently.  I know my frustrations got in the way of my compassion and logic, and that's probably what I feel the worst about.  But, I do think on some level, mom either knew her time was drawing near or she sensed the direction of the next step I was about to be taking her without me even saying it.  And truth be told, I could not see her living out her life in either of the assisted living facilities that my sister and I had toured just 48 hours before Mom died.

Rereading some of the last Facebook messages she sent me, I know she wanted to make sure I understood how much I was appreciated and loved.  (Hindsight:  She was saying goodbye).

10/17 10:31pm

Thanks for all you do and all you are. I LOVE you. Mom

10/24 10:07pm

Love you to the moon and back......thanks for the extra care when I am feeling so hopeless.....

10/25 11:09pm

YOU ARE THE BEST! I could not ask for better than you. I just want my mind to be in a better place.....

10/29 11:07pm

G'night my precious girl.......LOVE YOU

10/31 10:03pm

I am so TIRED..... just want to sleep. I am ready for it to be GONE!

11/1 8:54pm

THANKS TO YOU ALL: Just needed your sweet presence

Mom's Bible was a daily morning ritual.  She would read a devotional and usually post some scripture or inspirational message on her Facebook page as her first post of the day.  As I was going through her things a few days after her passing, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of her Bible.  The words on the paper, in Mom's handwriting, are lyrics from a song...a song I think she was using as a prayer.

(Hindsight:  An autopsy might have given us a clear cause of death so we didn't have to wonder if it indeed was another pulmonary embolism, or congestive heart failure, or something else entirely--but it would not give her back to us).  

More Angel Love from Mom

Every day of the week after my mom passed away, I was blessed with one miraculous experience after another, as Mom was given the opportunity to show me she was "okay."  As my son put it, Grandma was having fun playing.  The angel vision was just the first in a series of amazing sights and happenings I will treasure in my heart forever.

On my two-plus-hour drive Tuesday morning, November 4, I was shown the second and most beautiful sight.  I was steeling myself for the trip to mom's hometown to meet with the funeral home to plan the services with my sister.  Still reeling from mom's death and the vision I had seen from the night before, I know the shock was taking its toll on me. As I glanced heavenward as if pleading with God for some peace, I began to notice the clouds.  They were the softest and fluffiest I've ever seen. The cottony composition even had wispy feathers around the edges. This cumulus formation stretched from the driver's side window across my windshield in plain sight. As I realized the rest of the sky was a clear brilliant blue, the outline of the clouds took shape and registered in my mind...they were in the shape of angel's wings.  I began laugh-crying thanking Mom for showing me her wings.  I exclaimed through my tears how magnificently beautiful they were just like she was in life.

The next day, on my return trip home, I glanced out my window and noticed a bald eagle flying next to my car.  Any other time, an eagle in this area is such a rare sighting and is usually so far away that I would've struggled to determine if it was actually an eagle.  But this eagle deliberately flew next to my car for a few seconds bringing me a special mom-type comfort.  It was at that point I remembered how much Mom loved the song "On Eagles Wings" and I knew it was another sign that she was okay. It wasn't until the next day that I learned my sister was blessed with the same eagle experience on one of her trips up and back.

My next angel encounter needs to be prefaced with a little back story...

Several months ago, I recall Mom and I talking at her kitchen table.  I don't even remember now how we got on the subject, but I do remember making a request. I said to her that I would know she was okay up in heaven if she would send me a sign in the form of a purple butterfly.

From the moment I discovered mom was no longer burdened by her earthly confines, I admit I was looking for my purple butterfly.

However, on Wednesday, November 5, as I was out shopping--looking for something to wear to the funeral--I was not thinking about wanting to see a sign.  But as I have come to realize, Mom was with me and thinking about me.

I had looked at several different combinations of tops and scarves each producing more and more irritating and condescending comments by the annoying sales clerk.  My hubby was patiently standing by for moral support as I was contemplating leaving the store when my miracle occurred.

I glanced down at the jewelry display on my way to the mirror and saw the most extraordinary purple jeweled butterfly scarf clip.  My breath caught in my chest, and my husband looked at my expression, as I'm sure the color drained from my face.  He immediately asked me if I was okay, and as I struggled to find my voice, I rasped out..."I'll tell you in a minute."

Of course, I bought the butterfly clip AND purchased a top and scarf to match.

Thursday, November 6, my daughter and I went to our Hatha yoga class for some stress relief and a much needed diversion.  It was just a small class of four of us plus the yoga instructor.  Not wanting to bring the mood of the class down, I didn't say anything ahead of time about just losing my mom. Also, as I knew that we usually do some type of guided meditation at the end of class, I wanted to let that happen naturally without the instructor having any knowledge of what I was dealing with.  The stretching and toning poses worked their magic on my tense muscles and then it was time for the meditation.  Lying on our backs with eyes closed, we were directed to imagine a healing white light flowing through different parts of our bodies with each breath.  The whole time my eyes were closed, I had an aurora-borealis type of light show playing underneath my lids.  At one point, I vividly saw bright purple and smiled knowing Mom was with me even then.  At the end of class, feeling refreshed and renewed, one of the other gals started talking about the experience she had during the meditation. I have to say I have been going to this particular yoga studio for several months, now, and no one has ever talked about what they had happen during the meditation with this much fervor and description.  She began with a smile on her face and exclaimed over the swirls of light she had seen going on beneath her lids, and how she could even pick out the color purple.  I definitely had a jaw-dropping moment at that point and could feel the familiar lump in my throat begin to form.  The other regular class participant suddenly spoke up as well with surprise in her voice as she agreed that she had seen the color purple with her eyes closed, too, and she had never had that happen before.  No longer able to control my emotions, I shared with the class about Mom and how her favorite color was purple.  It is extremely incredible that her presence was so strong around me, that she had even affected what the others had experienced during the meditation.

Later that day, I was going through some of the mail and papers on mom's desk. Mom was very good about keeping up with her bill paying, but I wanted to make sure there wasn't something there that needed my attention.  I was looking through some envelopes when I came across some cash--enough cash for my sister and I each to shop for an outfit for the visitation (and go out for coffee--on Mom)...more tears as I thought how she was still taking care of us.

The finding of the cash reminded me that Mom had kept a change can in her cupboard.  I retrieved it to take to the bank to have it counted.  Without looking at the contents, I handed the can to the teller and she walked over to the change counter where she emptied the coins.  Before running the counter, I saw her reach in and pluck out something that she plopped back in the can.  I assumed it was a foreign coin until she brought the can back over to me.  A gold coin--that wasn't a coin at all, but another sign from Mom, gleamed in the bottom of the can.  I dumped it out to get a closer look.  The angel staring back at me gave me a start, but I managed to keep my sobs in check until getting back out to the car.  I had no idea the angel coin was in the can or even where it had come from...except that I knew it was from Mom.

On the way home from watching my daughter's play on Friday, November 7, I just smiled, as the angel outline in the night sky shown through the clouds.  Mom was always going to be with me, watching over me wherever and whenever.

It was the dates of the play productions that we had been working around when planning the visitation and funeral...as the show must go on, and grandma would've wanted her granddaughter to continue with the play.  At the time of setting the date for the funeral, nearly six days in advance, the weather prediction for that day was looking dismal--cold and windy with mixed frozen precipitation. Everyday when I checked, the forecast seemed to be worse than the last, so I finally stopped checking, knowing I could do nothing about it--the funeral was going to be when it was going to be.

Two days before the funeral, the percentage for the mixed precipitation had dwindled way down, and the temp was not to be as cold as first predicted.  By November 10, the day of the funeral, not only had the precipitation been completely eliminated, it was to be the nicest, warmest day of the week.

As the processional of cars left the church and headed out of town to the little country cemetery on the hill, the sky was a beautiful blue with fluffy white clouds; it was a breezy 58 degrees, and felt quite unbelievable for nearly the middle of November.  About a third of the cars made it over the railroad tracks before a train appeared, briefly separating our long line of vehicles.  As we waited for the train, I looked up in the sky and saw something I have never seen before.  I wouldn't call it a rainbow and it definitely wasn't sun dogs, but it was a colorful prism effect just shimmering through the clouds.  I felt sure it was Mom letting us know she was watching the whole thing from her perspective.

A few cars made it across the tracks before an even slower train stopped the processional once more as it rumbled lazily through town. When we arrived at the cemetery, we learned why Mom had caused two trains to delay the process...the bagpipe player was running late and needed a little extra time.

Everyone had plenty of time to arrive, and we only waited a few minutes more for the sounds of the bagpipes to play as the bearers brought the casket forth.  An Elvis impersonator sang his rendition of "My Way" just as Mom wanted, followed by the committal prayer and then "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes.  A beautiful service on a beautiful day for a beautiful Mamma.  No sooner had the services ended then the clouds grew thicker and darker.  As the day went on, the temperatures began dropping and the snow arrived during the night, coating everything in a purifying dusting of white.

The Angel-Love that Mom showed me all week made it possible for me to continue to function while the whole world went on about its business oblivious to my loss.

I'm still sad, but it's more about my own selfishness of not having Mom here anymore then about anything I could have or should have done differently while she was alive.  I thank God everyday for the time I got to spend with my mom and feel even more blessed that she is now my angel.

Here are a couple quotes I found this week...

Everyday, grief puts on a new face.  You don't get over it, you just get through it.  You don't get by it, because you can't get around it.  It doesn't get better, it just gets different.

Those we love don't go away.  They walk beside us every day.  Unseen, unheard, but always near.  Still loved, still missed and very dear. 

My First Angel Occurrence

Feeling so distraught over not being there when mom died, I believe she was reaching out to me to let me know she had not been alone.

Mom and I had been so close for so many years that we knew when the other was upset or out of sorts just by being in the same room together.  We had such a strong bond, that if anyone was able to reach out to another from the afterlife, I believe she could to me.  I'm convinced that is what happened.

Because of my mindset when this occurred, even with my sometimes overactive imagination, there is no way I could have conjured up the vision I'm about to describe...

As I lay in bed,sleep not possible--just 24 hours after mom had passed on--I closed my eyes. Just on the verge of eyes wide shut, I began to see a picture like it was being projected onto my eyelids.  At first, I wasn't sure what I was seeing or why. Then, as the postage-stamp-sized picture came into focus, I fought to make it stay so I could make out the details.  The specifics were fuzzy and dark, but I was definitely standing in mom's living room in front of her recliner and window looking toward her dressing chair where I had found her that fateful Sunday morning.  I suddenly became aware that I was not the only one in the room in my vision.  Several winged figures were also present--gathered around and facing the chair where mom sat, as if they were patiently waiting.

At this point, I became more than a little startled and opened my eyes, not actually believing what I was seeing.  Wanting to see more, however, I soon closed my eyes again and got to that point between eyes closed tight and just on the verge of them opening to see if the picture reappeared beneath my lids.

As the image came into view once again, I now realized there was a smaller winged figure sitting in the middle of the floor between mom and I; he was facing mom, as well, with his legs folded underneath and vee'd out next to him.  Realizing that what I was seeing were angels in the room with mom and I, I felt sure the younger angel was her older brother who had died as an infant, and the others were my grandma and grandpa, my great aunt Marie, and mom's grandparents.

I let my eyes come open again as I tried to process what I was seeing and let it sink in, but quickly closed them to see if the image remained.

What happened in the next image frightened me as mom's body appeared to rise up out of the chair and take the form of a black cloud.  I opened my eyes again out of fear, but let them close once more to focus on the next event.

The angels in the room began gathering around the black cloud producing a white robe with wings that they wrapped around the figure.  It was at that very moment when mom received her angel body and wings that I knew she hadn't been alone, and I had been given a most amazing gift of being allowed to see what had occurred.

The images I have included herein to illustrate what I saw, are from a picture I took in mom's living room showing my viewpoint and then digitally enhancing various clip art photos in an attempt to preserve, as close as I can, what I saw--as I want be able to remember it and share it with as many people as possible.

Incidentally, the cross directly above mom's head is inscribed with the word "BELIEVE" and the other wall had a picture of my grandparents from their 50th wedding anniversary.  Of all the places in mom's house where she could have taken her last breath, I believe this was no accident given that on All Saints Day, the saints came to whisk her away to a pain-free existence where she no longer had to be short of breath, or deal with anxiety, or carry around the extra weight that was causing her such joint aches and swelling that it kept her from just about all activity except sitting.

If this vision alone was all that happened to me in that first week after mom passed away, it would definitely be enough for me to believe in an afterlife, if I hadn't already.  But being the good and faithful servant that mom was in her earthly existence, she got to "play" a bit and show me several more miracles before ascending to heaven to stroll walker-free on the streets made of gold...

All Saints Day and Daylight Savings Time Ends

On Sunday, November 2, right after I posted my Halloween Tale on this blog, I closed the laptop and drove over to my mom's to check in with her for the day. I had planned to change her clocks for the end of Daylight Savings time and see if she was feeling any better. It was 9:30 a.m., and people in church were celebrating All Saints Sunday.  I knew I didn't need to go over any sooner, as mom usually sleeps in until 10:00.

 I walked into her spacious one level home where I moved her in November of 2010 and could hear the TV on in the living room.  I didn't see her sitting at the kitchen table, and at first glance into the living room, I didn't see her in her recliner or laying on the couch.  I assumed she was down the hall when I glanced at her dressing chair.  The sight that met my eyes is not one I will forget anytime soon. Finding her unresponsive, I first dialed half of the numbers to my house then hung up and dialed 9-1-1 instead, and THEN I called my husband.

The next couple hours are a blur of activity--questions, dry mouth, and an upset stomach (that would last throughout the next week).  Rescue personnel moved about quietly doing their job of assessing the situation while one member was appointed to make general inquiries at the same time offering his condolences. The officer on duty was in and out making phone calls, taking obligatory photos, and sliding a slip of paper in my hand with the name of the "M.E." on call.  In between the moments of unbelievable organized chaos, I would go to mom's side and lay my hand on her arm while apologizing for not being there, as I waited for tears that wouldn't come.

My husband arrived and comforted and consoled as best he could then began making phone calls to family behind a closed bedroom door.  Not long after, a funeral home representative appeared and requested that I step out of the room while they "removed the body"...all the while promising to... "take good care of mom."

I was supposed to have "taken good care of mom"...and I had for four years.  I had made multiple trips to her home every day.  I had gotten her groceries, prepared meals, done her banking, laundered her clothes, brought in her mail, unclogged her toilet, posted her letters and bills, sat and visited with her, watered her plants, took out her garbage, entertained her guests, secured a home health aide, driven her to appointments, responded to her anxiety attacks at all hours, fixed her printer and internet issues, and a myriad of other tasks so routine I can't even remember them now.  How could my 24/7 life of taking care of mom be over just like that, and what could I have done differently?  As her daughter, I should have been there when it was "her time to go."  As her caregiver, why didn't I recognize the end signs of decline sooner?

Wandering around in a fog of shock and despair after everyone had left, I started one project after another, not finishing anything.  It would be at least three hours before my sister would arrive and the reality could set in. By the time my mother-in-law arrived to check on me, I was curled up in ball on the couch with mom's bed sheet wrapped around me inhaling the medicinal scent of Aspercreme and finally giving in to the deep, body-shaking sobs of sadness.  The dishwasher was open and partially loaded, the washing machine had a few towels thrown in, there was food on the counter I had taken from the refrigerator to be disposed of...and a void left by mom's absence so big that everything else just seemed pointless.

Beating myself up over the should have's and could have's might have sent me into a major downward spiral if I had not been allowed to see a very miraculous vision.  Approximately 24 hours after mom passed away, I was lying in bed willing myself to fall asleep.  What happened instead was nothing short of an amazing spiritual occurrence...

October 2014 - A Halloween Tale

It was a dark and stormy life...

She had not been herself in years...one bad and untimely decision after another had led her to an unfortunate place...one of great regret and remorse.

She feels like that dilapidated, old house--the shell is there, albeit falling apart, while the inside has turned to decay. 

The cobwebs in her mind cloud her already poor judgment. She neither feels genuinely loved nor does she feel capable of returning such a warm, devoted emotion.

Restoration would require motivation, time, and money...she possesses none of that. Her run-down existence is plagued with multiple physical and mental disorders. Chasing temporary fixes of religious beliefs and legal addictive stimulants have left her penniless and unsatisfied.

Like that haunted, troubled house, the only thing she is good for now is scaring people away.

She, alone, is responsible for this current state of isolated disrepair. No one else is to blame.  Unable to set boundaries in order to combat the needs of others have led her to this total and complete despair.

When she thinks about how selfish it would be to demolish the wreck she has become, she knows that is not an option. 

She will continue down this dark path remaining vacant and uninhabitable allowing only the wild, misfit animals that wander in to take up residence...

until... 

    ...she is pronounced...

         ...officially condemned.

October 2014 - 30 Day Photo Challenge - DAY 30:BLACK

Dressed all in black, my daughter defied the norm of attending the local school's homecoming dance in a short-short, nothing-left-to-the-imagination dress and instead opted for an elegant, classy flapper-style dress...a natural beauty...

October 2014 - 30 Day Photo Challenge - DAY 29:FLOWERS

Wild flowers...randomly...on purpose.

 Accidental beauty...or calculated plantings.

 Petals with a purpose...

 He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.