My brother contacted me last Monday to let me know that the hospice workers who were managing my mother’s care had told him he should make sure to visit her the following day. And as anyone who’s ever dealt with hospice knows, when they tell you you’d better visit, you’d better visit.

Which was an easier thing for my brother than for me, as he lives just 20 miles away, while I’m more than 1,000. And with Christmas Day behind me and New Year’s Eve ahead of me, it looked at first as if that distance was going to prevent me from having the chance to say goodbye to my Mom. Every flight which could have gotten me there over the next 48 hours seemed sold out.

Luckily, the severity of my situation, as well as the persuasiveness of my tears, worked wonders on Southwest Airlines (thank you, Leah!), and my wife and I were able to make it to Florida late Tuesday night … although, because even miracles can only be so big, we ended up on different flights. We headed to Mom straight from Fort Lauderdale airport, arriving by her side slightly before 1:00 a.m. Wednesday.

She passed at 4:53 a.m. that morning.

But before she did, I was able to tell her I was there, and thank her for the gifts she had given me. She was not conscious to hear what I had to say, though the hospice worker who was present would claim, whenever Mom raised an eyebrow, that she’d heard me. I’d like to believe that, but find it hard to bring myself to do so.

What I can accept, though, is that any change in expression meant she was dreaming of being back with my father, to whom she was married for 55 years and three days, and to whom she ached to return during every moment since he left us. (more…)