Saturday, November 11, 2017


She lay there almost lonely, facing the end of her life without rancor or fear, just a stoic attitude. I watched her for the past few days as she quietly slipped into a coma.

As her son, I sat there wondering if there was anything I could do for her. Having come every day, I tried to make her last hours as pleasant as possible, knowing she needed her children desperately.  I read to her, showed her pictures and Youtube videos that made her laugh, I even took her on a venture through her old neighborhood through her old neighborhood WITH EARTH GOOGL, when she was a child, taking her ‘home' once again.

Her right arm sat in a fixed position as she slowly died, drifting into unconsciousness. I know that people that are losing consciousness can still hear, can still discern what is going on around them, and can still feel emotion.

I leaned close to her ear and told her I loved her, that she not fear death that it was eternal rest, that it would free her from all her Earthly cares. I told her also I loved her and always did. I felt at ease doing that. I made me feel so good that I said what I did and I believe that she heard me, that she knew what she suspected all along.

When she did finally pass, I felt relieved that she no longer suffered. I felt at peace. I sat in a chair and was at peace with my thoughts and realized there was nothing else to think about but except the resting of her soul. I did all I could for her, for months before she passed, I was at peace.

The moments after she passed, suddenly someone came out and told me that I should pray over her body. I had prayed, in my visitation, in my concern for her welfare every day before she passed.  Instead, I was criticized and told I was a disgrace. I was not gathered with others who really didn't think it was important to be with her in her last hours, it was more important to pray over her lifeless body, prayers that offered nothing but an opportunity to ease their guilty and selfish conscience.

Life will go on, they will judge me, and I will still be glad that I did what I did. God can judge me, he can judge that I spent my time with Mom, that she was too important to let other matters get in my way. I gave her my all, all my love, attention and a need to make her last hours happy. But I was criticized because I didn't pray with a bunch of hypocrites who felt the neglect of their mother was excusable by praying over her dead body. May God forgive them.


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