Tuesday

Personal | My Story | Give Back







Last year was my first Christmas without my Mom, except the one year she delivered a bouncing baby boy Christmas Eve when I was five. That was way different. Last year I was guarded by the shock of losing her three weeks prior to Christmas. We had just had an amazing Thanksgiving together with all extended family, filled with both laughter and tears. We had a girl's day that weekend with my two sisters and sister-in-law where we saw a movie she was so eager to watch and topped it off with dinner and margaritas. It was our last happy memory. She quickly declined, we thought from exhaustion. It was more. Within a couple weeks her organs began shutting down and we were instructed to prepare ourselves. Within a few hours of her death, I was sitting with her, her hand in mine. She was non-responsive, but I talked to her anyway. I talked through my tears and told her how wonderful she was, and how grateful I was to have her in my life. I went on telling her how scared I was to lose her. I then closed my eyes and prayed in a soft voice. Never in my entire life have I felt God's presence greater than that day. My eyes opened when her room lit up, the clouds had opened, but it was still snowing hard outdoors. Through the curtain sheer the snow shimmered, as if dust off an angel's wings. It was an amazing sight and feeling. I noticed tears had formed in the corner of her eyes and felt that was her way of saying goodbye to me and hello to the angels. Many of us had quiet moments with her that day, but it was when we all stepped out of her room and were talking in the living room, laughing even, that she slipped away. It was just how she had planned, and that brought tremendous peace to me. I held her hand as the angels guided her spirit to heaven. I held it a lot longer than that actually and letting go was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

This journey was guided along with the help of Heartland Hospice. They stepped in with open arms when my Mom was first diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. They became my parents' only non-related social outlet. Their care and companionship for my family, especially for my Mom and Dad, far exceeded my expectations. It was more than checking vitals and medication refills; they didn't hesitate to become close to someone who was fighting a losing battle. They listened to stories, shared their own memories and made many more. The nurses, social worker and chaplain all made meaningful impacts in her life, touching all ours.

From day one, my Mom was accepting of her fate. It was extremely hard for me to understand, but looking back, I realize that's the person she was. Her faith brought self comfort. She grieved for us, her husband of nearly forty years and five children, worried about how to help us cope and move forward. I never knew a person could be this strong. I am proud to say, yes, my Mom was that strong and more.

Please join me and give to Heartland Hospice. You never know when they will reach out and connect to someone you love. When/if they do, your life will be forever changed and you'll be in awe of the entire experience.

In memory of Bernice Jean Glass, February 18, 1949 - December 5th, 2010.