Thankful for my Shepherd

My mother is going to die. My mother is going to die. My mother is going to die.

I've heard this refrain in my head a dozen times a day for nearly two years now. Since around the time that my mom told me she had stage four lung cancer.

I have not talked to her in over a week. I've made excuses every single day as to why I can't call. Too busy, kids too loud, Jason out of town, etc. The truth is, I don't want to call her. Because talking to her is awful. She is nearly impossible to understand and appears not to comprehend what I am saying to her. The last time I got off the phone with her, I called my sister and we spent 15 minutes on the phone sobbing together.

Tonight it was my sister's turn to call me and cry her heart out after calling our mom.

My mom did not know who my sister was. She kept calling her by our uncle's name. She now refers to her husband by her dad's name.

I don't think I can call her again. I feel horrible about that. Does it matter if I call her again? I don't know. It doesn't appear to bring her any comfort and it flat out devastates me. I'm eight months pregnant and I'm supposed to be avoiding devastation. Will I hate myself for not calling her? I don't know. Probably.

The last time I will have seen my mother in this lifetime was at the airport gate as she was about to walk  down the gangplank. She hugged me, kissed me, smiled into my face and said she loved me. I did the same. Then I turned around and walked away from her. I did not look back. Because I knew if I did I would run back to my mother like a small child, fall to my knees, hug her legs and beg her not to go. Like I did every day for the entire first semester of kindergarten.

But I'm 32 years old. A wife for fifteen years. A mother to soon-to-be five children. A real live grown up. So really, I'm not about to make an enormous scene at the airport.

Right now, I am trying to walk away and not look back. It's not really working though. Everywhere I look, I see reminders of her. She helped me set up my kitchen when we moved here. Her artwork is on my walls. Her travel toiletries are still in the upstairs bathroom because she forgot them and I can't bear to throw them out. Even my damn arms look just like hers so every time I look down, I see my mom's arms.

I know it will be okay. God has more than provided me with a wonderful family. I am not lonely. I'm married to the my best friend and the love of my life. I have children that I was told by doctors that I would not have. And then so much more. Closure will eventually come regarding my mother's passing from this life to the next. We've had two years to get to this place of last goodbyes and The Lord has been oh so gentle. I have perfect peace about seeing her again in heaven and that things will be just fine. Grief is a normal part of life and burying your parents is in the natural order of things.

Psalm 23


 The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
 He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD
Forever.