She grew up knowing that she wasn’t wanted. Her mother told her on numerous occasions that she had tried everything she could to terminate the pregnancy. The only thing that kept her going was her relationship with her two sisters.
At the age of 12, she tried to commit suicide. She took Mercury tablets and dissolved them in a glass of water and drank it. She laid down to die, but after the pain got too bad to hold bad the moans anymore, she told her mother what she had done, thinking it was too late to save her.
She was rushed to the hospital and had her stomach “pumped” to rid her system of the poison, and remained there for a week. She had come very close to succeeding with her plan.
When she came home, the very first thing her father said to her wasn’t, “I’m glad you’re ok.” Oh no. He said, “Now go do it again!”
Realizing that she wasn’t loved, she began looking for that knight in shining armor that would sweep her off her feet, and take her away from her home. At the age of 14, she found my father. They met in July, and in December of 1948 they were married. Mother gave birth to my older sister just one month after her 15th birthday.
Mother was listening to the radio one day, and heard a broadcast called RADIO BIBLE CLASS, which was the ministry of Dr. M.R. DeHaan. As she listened, she became convinced that the thing that she needed most in her life was the love of Jesus Christ. By the end of the broadcast, she had given her life over to the Lord, and made the decision that would impact not only her life, but also the lives of many people around her.
Since she was married at such a young age, it can be said that there were many problems in the marriage. But Mother was a firm believer in the vow that said, “What God hath put together, let no man put asunder,” so she decided to make her marriage work, no matter what.
I was quite a hand-full for her, and a constant challenge. I was very rebellious, and constantly challenging her authority over me. When she had her first bout with cancer in 1976, I really didn’t take any of it seriously…I was too wrapped up in myself.
I had the opportunity to take a job in Florida, and decided to take it. I looked at my dear, sweet mother one day, and said,” If you’re going to die, you’re going to die whether I’m here or in Florida, so I’m going to Florida!”. Looking back, I can’t believe I could have said anything so cold to my own mother. But, she just looked at me with tears in her eyes, and said, “Glenda Lou, I’ve done all I can for you. I’m giving you over to God, and He can handle you from now on. There’s nothing else I can do!”.
I went to Florida, and came home immediately. Through a series of circumstances, God used that trip to break my very strong will, and I came home just like the prodigal son in the Bible. I knew that I had hurt my mother deeply, and I set out to make a change in our relationship.
Mother and I then formed a new, wonderful relationship. We surpassed the normal mother/daughter relationship. We became best friends. I could tell her (literally) anything. She became my confidante, my cheerleader, basically my whole world. She believed in me, and gave me the confidence to believe in my abilities and myself.
When her cancer returned in 1991, I took a leave of absence to take care of her after her surgery. The first cancer had taken her left breast, this time it took part of her colon. She recovered quickly, and I went back to work again. However, our feelings of having “beaten the cancer” were short-lived.
By the end of 1991, she had inoperable malignant tumors on her spine and in her left shoulder. The day before Thanksgiving 1991, we were told she was terminally ill, and would be bedbound within a short time. We went home in a daze, and I remember thinking, “We’re not going to beat it this time! I’m going to lose her to the thing I hate most…Cancer!”
Our holidays that year were extra special. I purchased a camcorder to record our time together, because we all knew this could be our last holidays together. During the Christmas holidays, I videotaped the 5 of us sitting in our living room discussing Christmas memories that we’ve cherished through the years. Through the whole evening, Mother wore a smile. She had lived her whole life for her family, and she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
Easter Sunday, 1992, she had to give in to the pain, and go to bed, never to get up again. We had already gotten her a hospital bed, and it was set up in the living room, so she could still be a part of our everyday lives. I again took a leave of absence, and remained her 24-hour a day private duty nurse until she died.
I taught my father and sister how to do “nurse aide” duties, so they could help with her care. My sister, Ada came out several times a week, and it was her job to give Mother a bed bath. When it became too much for us to handle, we obtained the help of our local Hospice, and had visiting nurses that came every couple days to help with the care. I won’t go into any detail about her time spent in bed, because it’s too painful to go back over that time. I will just say that it was emotionally very hard on the whole family seeing Mother bedfast.
She was a real trooper through it all, and did what she could to help. She had trouble taking pills, so I mixed them in applesauce for her. We always added sugar substitute and cinnamon to help flavor the applesauce, and for as long as she had the use of both hands, would stir the ingredients together to give her something to do, and to feel like she was helping.
On my 38th birthday, August 14, 1993, her condition became critical, and we knew it was only a matter of time. I went to my favorite tree in our backyard, leaned over “my” limb, and cried my eyes out. She was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt like a failure. As a nurse, I was trained to help people, yet I couldn’t help my mother. I collected myself before I came back in, yet she somehow knew what was wrong with me. She had me come over and sit beside her on her bed. She took my hand and said, “Glenda Lou, I know this is hard on you. I know you feel like you’ve failed. But, we knew a long time ago that I was going to die. I’m in God’s hands, and there’s nothing you can do. Just pray that it’s over soon. Let me go.”
We started our “death vigil” 2 days before she died. Neither my father nor I got much sleep. The day before she died. I called my sister, and told her that she should come. Mother was coherent until several hours before she died, but she lost the ability to talk coherently. She communicated with her eyes. I called Hospice, and asked for Mother’s favorite nurse to come, and within 5 minutes of Sharon’s arrival, Mother was gone. All 5 of us in the immediate family were present, as was Sharon. She slipped away quietly at 1:00 p.m. on September 8, 1993.
When we went in to the funeral home to finalize plans (incidentally, Mother had a bag packed with her clothing for the funeral home, all I had to do was get it out of her bureau. She had called the mortician several months prior to her death to make sure everything was in order), she looked absolutely beautiful! She had never looked more radiant than she did in death! She was at peace, and she was HOME!
I miss her very much. I never thought I’d miss her as much as I do. But of one thing I am certain…death is not the end of the line. It’s only the beginning! I will see her again, and we will laugh and talk just like we used to! Christ conquered death on the cross, and I know I will be with my mother again! Praise the Lord!
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