Kevin and I moved back to Michigan at the end of 2002.  We had been married for about 8 months and were about to celebrate the marriage of my brother, Steve to his bride Julie.  We shoved an apartment full of belongings into my parents garage and moved into their basement.  Kevin was able to go back to work with the company he was with before we moved to Nashville.  My job was to stay home and help take care of my mom and dad.

My mom had major surgery a few weeks before we moved.  The doctors removed her bladder and fashioned a new one out of her small intestines. (I do not understand medicine.)  She lost the sensation of knowing when she needed to use the bathroom, so we had to train her new bladder.  So most mornings I would wake up with Kevin, see him off to work and then our puppy, Jonas, would lay by my mom’s door until she would wake up.  He would follow her into the bathroom and we would set the timer for the next time she needed to go.  We spent our days going to doctor’s appointments or watching old programs on the Game Show Network.  She always had visitors coming in and out and if she felt up to it, we would run an errand.  She was a good patient.  Her goal was to be ready to party at my brother’s wedding.

Wedding weekend arrived and a nurse from the hospital volunteered to come to Chicago with us in case my mom needed any help.  The weekend was beautiful.  Everything was beautiful.  Everyone was so thankful that my mom was able to be there.  It was a celebration of life and marriage.  One of my favorite memories of my mom that weekend was her in the hotel lobby after rehearsal dinner.  Most of our family and some friends stayed at the same hotel.  After everyone had gone up to their room, my mom realized that everyone would need change to pay the toll from the church to the reception.  She had the front desk help her print little notes and they taped two quarters to each note then slipped them under the door of all of the wedding guests.  My mom was in her fuzzy pink pajamas and winter hat sneaking around the hotel.  She was beaming from ear to ear that she was able to do this for everyone.  She was in her happy place.

My second favorite memory is a photo.  It was my mom in between my brothers and they are kissing the sides of her chemo head with short hair.  It captures each of them so perfectly and the special relationship they had with my mom.  She was was stunning!

My third favorite memory of my mom from that weekend happened at the reception.  She was on the dance floor.  I think we were all keeping an eye on her.  All of a sudden she doubled over and sat down in a chair.  I rushed over and with tears in her eyes from laughing so hard she said, “Help me.  The velcro from my catheter bag got stuck on my pantyhose on my other leg.  I can’t move.”  I burst out laughing and helped to get her free.

We came home from Chicago, celebrated Christmas a couple of weeks later and settled back into our pre-wedding routine.  In early February, Kevin and I went on a retreat with the youth group at church.  My mom had a cold that she couldn’t seem to kick.  My dad took her to her doctor.  They sent her to the hospital.  They were worried about dehydration and some pain she was having in her legs.  The hospital admitted her and they began running tests.  I’m not sure of the exact timeline of things, but I remember spending Valentine’s Day with my mom.  I brought a few of our favorite chick flicks to watch.

Four days later, Kevin and I were sitting at an elementary school performance.  We were watching a fourth grade girl for a few days while her parents were out of town.  Things had just started when we got a call from my dad.  I thought he was calling to tell me they were on their way home from the hospital.  Instead he was calling to tell me that my mom’s cancer had come back with a vengeance and there was nothing the doctors could do.  He was asking us to come to the hospital because he didn’t know how long we had left to be with my mom.

I called our friends who happened to be the neighbors of this little girl we were watching.  We waited for them to come to the school and then we drove straight to Ann Arbor.  I cried the entire way.  I was so angry.  Why would God take my mom?  He brought her through so much to just let her die?  I didn’t get it.

Again, the events were blurry, but I know we had two days with my mom where she was coherent.  She didn’t go a minute without someone sitting next to her and holding her hand.  My family took over the floor’s waiting room.  The two person limit on visitors no longer applied.  It was my job to call people to tell them to come say goodbye.  It was hard, but it was also so encouraging.  My mom was a very loved woman.  Each of her kids got to spend alone time with her.  She spoke words over us and gave us jobs to do.  She pretty much planned her whole funeral and in front of an room crowded with people she led a worship service of her favorite hymns and songs.

Four days from the time we learned of her cancer returning she was gone.  There was no pain.  No more doctors appointment.  No more chemo.  But there was also no more mom.  No more of her laughter.  No more of her smile.  No longer long nights of popcorn and chick flicks.  My days looked very different after my mom’s death.  We were all trying to find ways to cope.  We continued to live with my dad for awhile, but eventually found an apartment nearby.  We were still newlyweds trying to figure out life and now we had to figure out death.

As I reflect on those two and a half months I got to be with my mom after moving home from Nashville the thing I am thankful for is the gift of time.  I’m so thankful I got to spend those days with her.  I’m thankful that we had four days in the hospital to say goodbye.  Time became incredibly important after her death.   I didn’t want to waste it.  I didn’t want to take it for granted.  None of us know how much time we have.  What are we going to do today to make the most of it?