Remembering Her Mama

Early in my career of nursing I was working in an outpatient cancer ward where we saw patients primarily who needed chemotherapy, transfusions, lab work.

Sally was younger than most of our regular clientele in the waiting room.  She was wearing a really spunky, red flirty hat with her blonde curly wig.  Dark pink toe nail polish peeked out of her open toed sandals.  And her strappy cotton flowered sundress allowed room to work with her infusaport  for her chemotherapy and blood work.

"My don't you look nice!" I said as she entered our area.

"My kids picked out this stuff.  You know I'd rather be in my jeans and tennis shoes!" She said as she slid into one of our bright plastic waiting chairs.

She was almost through with her chemo treatments and was looking forward to having her port removed and a vacation.  "Where?"I asked one day while I was checking her vital signs.

"Anywhere there is a Holiday Inn with a pool for my kids!" She said with a huge grin.

She came into our tiny treatment room and started making her recliner comfortable with a soft cotton blanket and a little pillow with embroidered pink roses on the pillow case.  Then she headed to our mini frig and got a Pepsi, some saltines and looked my way. "You know, Becki, I read the other day in a reputable magazine that calories don't count when you are on chemo! So I might eat a candy bar too!"

"Oh really?" I replied.  "And what magazine did that appear in?"

"The one that Erma Bombeck wrote a column for." She answered with a smirk!

I smiled and continued gathering my supplies as she nestled in her space.

As I began the lengthy infusions of pre-meds and chemo, she suddenly became serious.

"Hey Becki, pull that curtain.  I want to chat a little."

"Sure Kiddo, I'm all yours for the rest of the day.  And I'm all ears.  Chat away!"

"Well, I know I'm really doing just fine.  It's just that I had a dream last night about my Mom.  I know I've told you about her before and that she died before I graduated from high school with breast cancer."

"Yes, I remember." I nodded in reply.

"Well, she was smiling and looked so young and beautiful like when I was about 5 or 6 years old and she was in her late 20's or 30's.  And she had on one of her favorite old cotton printed aprons she always wore. It had big pockets. She was smiling and looked so alive and real.  And she said, "Don't worry Pumpkin, It's what she called me because my hair was orange red.

"Well, then she said, It's not your time yet.  But when that time does come, I'll be here to help you make the journey.  You have more time, Honey, to be with your little ones.  You'll see them grown so don't worry anymore.

"What do you think about that?" she asked as she watched closely for my expression and answer.

"Oh, I think that's a wonderful dream!" I smiled and patted her arm.

"Well, I can't tell just anybody as they'd think I had a chemo brain disorder going on.  But ever since that dream I've been thinking about when Mom died.  You know when you're a teenager you're just all involved with school and activities and dating and well, I jut didn't think she'd not always be there.  I wish I'd hung around the house more and told her how great she was.  And I was thinking that when my time does come I'd want my kids to remember me like I remember her."

"Tell me what you remember." I asked her.

"There's so many things.  And it's not like I'm trying to make her into a saint or anything like that but she was close! She was always positive.  Dad would say, 'Oh, brother, weatherman said it'll rain today.  I don't know if we'll be out of the hayfield in time.'

And she'd be standing there by the kitchen table drying dishes with her tea towel and say, "Oh Herb, wouldn't a rain be nice in this heat? I swear those chickens are pantin' in the backyard.  Wouldn't they be happy with a rain?"

I'd be still eating on the last biscuit with honey listening and watchin' and waitin' for Daddy's reply.  He'd pull his old worn out sweat stained hat on and look at her like she was from outer space as he slammed the back screen door while heading to the barn muttering something to himself.

She was always doing something for others who might need some help.  She'd have us save all our clothes and shoes that didn't fit any of us anymore and we'd take them to this family that had less than we did.  She made us polish the shoes or wash the shoe laces and wash and iron the clothes and patch any tears in the fabric.

She was always giving away extra garden produce and eggs and milk.  I remember rolling my eyes thinking, 'Oh great! I'm going to be suffering extra in the heat picking that sticky okra and diggin' for potatoes for somebody we don't even know! She visited the sick in our community and always went to see about those who were grieving when they lost a family member.  She never went empty handed. She took a cake or a pie.  And I guess there were certainly times she must have had moments like any human does with doubt or fear or sadness, but if she did, I guess it didn't last long.

I was the most ornery one of us kids.  I was scared and angry when she was dying.  I didn't want to stay in the room with her.  But she made me feel like I was the most important person that ever breathed when I walked into a room.  But she did that for every one of us I imagine.  It wasn't till after she was gone that I realized how much she meant to me...to all of us.

We found little pieces of paper in her Bible where she'd made herself notes like: make Herb a banana cream pie, buy Princess more ribbon for her hair (my sister), tell Pumpkin how good her cookies were Sunday night, forgive Mrs. Johnson."

My sweet patient didn't say too much after that. She just smiled at me and thanked me for listening before she left.

I'm really more like Pumpkin that her Mom.  Often I want to  punch someone first and then forgive them.  But I'm not giving up on myself.  Over the years I've come to realize that God's grace still abounds.

How do you want to be remembered? I won't be remembered for my pies and cakes or sewing or contributions to a discussion about politics.  It'll probably be something else I'm remembered for!

Hug your children! Hug your parents! Hug your Grandparents! Hug somebody!