Late September

It was just past Labor Day and colleges were in full swing. I had missed enrollment for fall semester again, but this year for a different reason. My mother had breast cancer and had started to decline. She needed more care, so I quit my full-time job at the bank to help. I was already living at home with my parents while my siblings were all married with their lives. This particular September was quite memorable due to the bitter sweetness of what would be my mother's last days.I always loved fall because of the anticipation of a new school year, the cooler weather and the vibrant colors of nature. Fall was always about me and signified new beginnings usually. That self-centered ideal would change as I was to embrace the idea of putting someone else's needs before mine with loving sacrifice.Early every morning my mother would be sitting in her chair either reading, praying or singing. One mid-morning my mother was in the bathroom singing a hymn. Then suddenly there was silence, followed by "Oh my gosh...oh yes!" I burst into the bathroom, "Mom, are you okay?"Yes sweetie, I was just envisioning your wedding", she said. "Oh, Mah!", I replied wanting her to stop. "No, it's beautiful!", she went on, "it's going to be at Heinz Hall Theatre with lots of little ballerinas dancing to Pachebel Canon in D, the bridesmaids will each be wearing a different hue of fall; like rust, gold and burnt red, while carrying a basket with a kitten in it". I responded, "So Mom", trying to extinguish the grandeur of her vision, "who is the groom?". I wasn't dating anyone and men were the farthest thing from my mind at his point in my life. "I don't know, the face was blurry in my vision", she said bluntly. That figures! I know my mom desperately wanted to plan my wedding and was such a creative host who loved parties. I was the last of her four children yet to be married, even my younger brother beat me to the altar.Days went on with regular trips to the hospital for radiation. On the car rides to and from the hospital, my mom would share stories of other people she had met with cancer. "Oh, Cher, I feel so sorry for this young mom with 2 small children and this older lady with no family to help her or....." She would go on and on about others and pray for them. So selfless was my mom, even in her own pain and suffering."Let's talk" was my mom's mantra. Most times in my life, especially during my late teen and college days, I hated our "talks". I was always in the hot seat so to speak. Anyway, this particular time, I graciously invited the time on the couch. "Honey, how do you feel about me dying?" My mom was very honest about the reality of her illness. "I don't want you to go but I know it's going to happen", as I started to cry and dropped my head to avoid looking in her loving eyes that could see through me. "I love you", she said. I hugged her frail, boney body, "I love you too mom".This time I meant it with all my heart. I clutched onto her tightly never wanting to let her go. As I pulled away, I felt the softness of her skin like I had always known. With tears streaming down my hot cheeks like a waterfall, my mom confides in me. "I always felt closest to you out of all my children". I know this to be true and had sensed it myself. I was a lot like my mom. My mother was my source of encouragement, a kindred creative spark, accountability partner, mother and friend I often needed.With the end of September approaching, I witnessed a strong, independent woman be knocked down and confined to a bed. I remember those last hours waffling between wanting the drama to be over and on the other hand, desperately never wanting my mom to take her last breath.Although I grieved and felt tremendous loss, there is a sweetness I will always cherish of those deep, precious moments we had together that late September-an intimate, transparent look at my mom and her beauty, human frailty and profound love for many. In retrospect, I longingly look back on that life-altering September, wanting to return to feeling that pain and grief alongside the fond memories of love and laughter I shared with my mom. However, I know I would not be the woman, mother, wife, artist or teacher I am today, if I had not been present that dark September month.Now on the last days of September and especially on October 1st, when her Memorial service took place, I reflect on the woman, my mom, who demonstrated a quiet strength, a knowing peace of her destiny and complete surrender to God. When you have witnessed someone graciously and without fear, face death, it truly alters your own perspective with an awakening that living is for NOW.