Mother's Day grief: Celebrating memories helps ease the pain of loss

Not everyone will be able to celebrate Mother’s Day this Sunday. For those who have lost a mother, it can be a painful day of mourning, especially if this is the first Mother’s Day without Mom or if young children are grieving, too. This may also be a hard day for women who have experienced infertility, pregnancy loss or the loss of a child." —Good Grief Center for Bereavement Support

I remember my first Mother's Day without my mother like it was yesterday. Mom quietly passed away at home on December 26th after a valiant 22 year battle with Multiple Sclerosis. Looking back, one of the best things I did after Mom died was join a grief support group facilitated by a trained grief counselor. One of the most helpful things I learned from the counselor was that everyone experiences grief differently, there is no time limit on grief that it takes as long as it takes.

Some Grief experts will tell you that we grieve in stages designed to move us from denial to acceptance of the death. Others say that grief is different for everybody, that there's no set pattern to follow. There's probably some truth in both points of view, depending on the one doing the grieving. One thing is certain, it helps to have a coping strategy in place for those difficult times, like birthdays and holidays. The Good Grief Center for Bereavement Support says that coping with grief on Mother's Day can be especially hard on women, men and children. The Good Grief Center offers these tips for getting through this highly celebrated day:

• Do something positive in memory of your mother. Choose an activity that will connect you to her.
• Ask a trusted friend or coworker what helped them when their mother died.
• For children, Explain that this is a good day for good memories of Mom. Break out the photo album and reminisce with them.
• If you’re a woman who never held your baby due to a pregnancy loss, celebrate your baby by lighting a candle or planting a flower that blooms every year.

Those for whom the pain of grief at losing a mother still lingers, it may be helpful on Mother's Day to celebrate your memories of your mother. Recall stories of good times, her favorite sayings or special occasions. Share your memories with family or a good friend. And if tears come, let them come. Tears are God's way of cleansing our soul. Don't shrink from this day or let it control you. Rather, meet it head on as your mother would want you to. Whatever way you choose to celebrate, make yours a Happy Mother's Day!

Since my Mom's passing, I have not missed celebrating her on Mother's Day. Usually, I mail her Mother's Day card to me. On that special day, I read the card aloud, and wish her a "Happy Mother's Day in heaven." Afterwards, I may have dinner with a friend or cook one of Mom's favorite dishes. It brings me such joy and helps me to get through this day. Following is my tribute in memory of my dear Mom. Please use it as a model to write your own if you'd like.

I Remember Madre (Mother)

I remember her hugs, her smile, her laughter, her hazel eyes that changed color when she scolded me. I remember her coconut lemon pound cakes, her Hungarian goulash, apple cobblers, pigs feet and potato salad dinners that raised money for our church.

I remember her voice, her advice, her unconditional love and encouraging words as I went off to college. I remember how smart she was, how forgiving, how funny and how simple things brought her so much joy.

I remember her kindness, her courage, her faith, her final words, "Don't forget, I love you...up to the sky and back." I haven't forgot, Madre, I never will. I will always love you—up to the sky. —by Carolyn K. Erwin

Forever Friends: A friendship for the ages

I received some good news recently. My mother's best friend has died. She was 91. You may be thinking, "Why would someone's death be good news?" Good question. But before I answer, let me tell you about "Ms Alma" as I called her, and why their friendship was so special. Ms. Alma and Florence have been friends for about 60 years I guess.

In their younger years, these two beautiful women were social butterflies attracting the attention of the most eligible men in their circle. Alma and Florence belonged to several well known social clubs of the day, and loved to throw fancy parties for their other friends. Family life for Alma and Florence included their husbands, children, church every Sunday and large family dinners, especially at holiday time.

Throughout their long friendship, Alma and Florence were always there for each other through good times and bad, sickness and health. The day came when Florence suffered a major health crisis. Diagnosed in her late fifties with multiple sclerosis, Florence lost her ability to walk. This didn't stop Alma from coming to see her friend. Alma kept Florence's spirits up with stories about the good old days, frequently punctuating the air between them with fits of laughter.

When she came Alma always bought Florence's favorites — corned beef sandwiches or crab cakes. I loved watching those two feast on good food and good conversation. Before leaving Alma always gave me what she called "a little piece of change," usually five or ten dollars. I think it was her way of letting me know how much she appreciated me for taking good care of her friend.

The time would come when Alma developed health problems of her own, limiting her ability to get around independently. No longer could she keep up her regular visits to see Florence, but that didn't stop her. She still managed to call every week to check in with her friend. When Florence was blessed to buy a used wheelchair van, one of the first trips we made in it was to see Alma.

This time, we bought the food. One beautiful summer afternoon, we surprised Alma with an impromptu outdoor picnic. Because her house was not accessible for Florence's wheelchair, Alma's daughter helped set up a folding table with tablecloth on the sidewalk out front. We sat down to a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits and sweet tea. We had fun that day, laughing and joking as Alma's neighbors glanced back at us with disapproving looks as they walked by. Obviously, they had no idea of the longstanding history between these two women, and why this was perfectly normal behavior for the two of them. Later that day, as Alma and Florence said their "goodbyes," I knew somehow that these two friends had probably seen the last of their best days on earth together.

Not long afterwards, Alma's health declined to the extent that her daughters could no longer care for her at home. Alma was placed in a nursing home conveniently within five minutes driving distance from our house. Florence and I visited Alma there often to play dominoes and eat lunch with her. It was almost like old times, except that both women were now in wheelchairs.

Later that year, Florence passed away at age 83. Alma's daughter brought her to the funeral. I will never forget the heartfelt tribute Alma made to her friend:

When they told me that Florence had died, I had to come. Florence and I were the best of friends. I really will miss her.

After Florence's death, I continued to visit Alma. She was always glad to see me. Our shared grief over the lost of our mutual best friend brought us closer together. The time came when I decided to move away from the area. I struggled with how to tell Alma I would be leaving. The night before my last visit with her, I had a dream. In the dream, I was instructed to share the gospel with Alma and lead her in a prayer for salvation, just as I had done with Florence some years before. The next day, when I arrived at the nursing home, Alma seemed especially glad to see me. It was as if she had been expecting me to come that day. With few words from me, Alma prayed to receive Jesus Christ, as her Lord and Savior. The look of pure joy on her aging face was both priceless and precious.

I never saw Alma again after that day. Some ten years later, I came across one of Florence's old phone books. Leafing through its pages, I came across a phone number for one of Alma's daughters, so I called her. When she answered, I found myself blurting out the words, "Is your mother still alive?" After she confirmed who I was, she said that her mother had died a year earlier. My call had come on the one year anniversary of her death. Alma was 91 when she died. I hung up the phone thinking:

What a joyful reunion Alma and Florence must be having in heaven right now.

I was glad to hear that Alma had died because I knew these two lifelong friends would be reunited once more. In life, they shared a special friendship. And now, in death, they share an eternity in the presence of God.

And I heard a voice from heaven saying, 'Write this down: Blessed are those who die in the Lord from now on. Yes, says the Spirit, they are blessed indeed, for they will rest from their hard work; for their good deeds follow them.' Revelation 14:13

Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:1-2

A Christmas miracle: When death took a detour

Miracle - A surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.— Webster's dictionary

I believe in miracles. I have enough faith to expect them to happen in my life in when I pray. Even though we don't hear enough about divine miracles nowadays, they do still happen. I know because I was the recipient of a divine miracle on Christmas Day 2002. The following is a true account of that miracle and the events as they occurred that day.

To give you a little background, by December of that year, I had been caring for my 83 year old mother throughout her 22 year battle with primary progressive Multiple Sclerosis (MS). MS had long ago taken away her ability to walk, but by 2002, Mom had also lost her ability to speak, feed herself, chew or swallow. At the same time, she started having seizures, which gradually became more persistent, unrelenting, and life-threatening. As a result, Mom was hospitalized and given high doses of phenobarbital to quell the seizures. We left the hospital 12 days later, just three days before Christmas.

Even though mother couldn't speak, her eyes told me that she was glad to be back home. We both were. After I made her comfortable in bed and checked her feeding tube, I took a break to rest. When I returned to check on her, I noticed that Mom was staring hard at the window at the foot of her bed. She appeared not to even notice that I had entered the room. This was not like her.

I stood by her bedside calling her name, but she paid me no notice. Instead, she was focused hard at the foot of her bed like she saw something something in her room that my eyes couldn't see. The look on her face more radiant than I'd ever seen her. She was literally glowing, smiling even. I stood there waiting for her to finally notice me. I said nothing about what I had witnessed. As I readied the IV pole for her feeding, she looked directly at me, and with a trembling hand waved me off. I knew what she was asking, so I said, "Mom I can't not feed you that's between you and Jesus."

The next morning, the home care nurse came by for a routine check of Mom's vital signs. 

After the nurse left, I bathed, dressed, and transferred mother to her wheelchair. She was happy to be out of bed. The long hospital stay had been tough on her, but I told her that we were not going to let MS get the better of us; that we were in this fight together to the end.
I combed her hair before leaving her in the care of the aide while I went to the store. When I returned, the aide said Mom had called my name and then went to sleep. After letting the aide out, I went to check on Mom. When I couldn't wake her, I realized that she was not asleep; she had slipped quietly into a coma. It was Christmas Eve.

I really didn't know what else to do except put her to bed and hope that she would pull through as she had done in the past. Even though things were not looking good at that point, I made a decision not to take her back to the hospital. Going back to the hospital was not an option for us. It was Mom's wish and mine that when death came he would find her at home.  I called my sister and waited for her to come. During the long hours I was alone, I held Mom's hand and talked to her. I believed that even in her comatose state, she could still hear me.

Later that evening, my sister joined me in a bedside vigil for our mother. Together we stood watch as imminent death was poised to take our mother from us. I don't remember why, but for some reason, I needed something from the drugstore. My sister volunteered to go. It was after midnight when she left for the 24-hour pharmacy a few blocks away. It seemed like she was gone for a longer than usual time. I wondered if she was somewhere crying? I went over to the window and looked out. It was snowing. It was then that I realized it was Christmas Day.

I returned to mother's bedside and reached for her hand. I was surprised by how cold it had become. I started rubbing her arms, her legs, her feet. I was startled by how ice cold they had become like the life blood had drained from them. I searched my Mom's face to see if she was still breathing— she was, but just barely. Her breathing had become shallow and there was a faint rattling noise when she exhaled. Hurrying to the other side of the bed, I checked the 1,000 ml drainage bag hanging hung there. It should have been full to capacity since Mom was still taking in fluids through her feeding tube. But it was bone dry, except for a reddish-brown stain at the bottom. My immediate thought was that her kidneys had shut down. For the first time throughout this ordeal, I allowed myself the thought that Mom was slipping away—that she was in fact dying. Instinctively in desperation, I cried aloud—

"Mom, it's Christmas Day. Please don't die on Christmas."

At that moment, a sudden urge hit me to use the bathroom. When I returned moments later, I grasped Mom's hand again, and immediately noticed something was different. Her hand was warm. Surprised by this, I began feeling for her arms, legs, feet, forehead—her entire body was feverishly hot. I hurried to the other side of the bed to check her drainage bag. When only moments before it had been empty, it was now filled to overflowing with pale, yellow urine. At that moment, I realized what God had done—stopping death in it's tracks.

God heard my cry and ordered death to stand down. I can only imagine my Mom engaged in a negotiation with the Angel outside the gates of Heaven, holding up one finger and pleading—

"Please God, can I go back for just one more day for my daughter."

Mom didn't die on Christmas Day. She died the day after on December 26 sometime around 2:00 pm. My sister and I were together when Mom breathed her last. This miracle was nothing compared to what Jesus Christ did lover 2,0000 years ago when He died for the sins of the whole world to reconcile us to God. And because of Christ, life doesn't end at death. Whosoever believes in Christ has eternal life. I can't wait to see mother again to find out what really happened on that fateful Christmas Day.

God loved the people of this world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who has faith in him will have eternal life and never really die. John 3:16 CEV

Life after death: Where is Prince now?

The untimely death of Prince Rogers Nelson aka Prince shocked the world. Fans, friends, fellow entertainers, and even a president paid tribute to The Artist who touched so many lives in innumerable ways. Clearly, Prince was beloved by many. In the aftermath of his death, those who knew him talked about his genius and generosity, humility and compassion. No doubt Prince would be amused, and perhaps a bit embarrassed by all the attention. Prince enjoyed celebrity, but also cherished privacy. Surely, his death enhances one, and makes the other much more difficult.

Getty photos

When someone dies, whether famous or not, it hits close to home because it reinforces the inevitability of our own death at some point, or that of someone close to us. It's natural to try to ease the pain death causes by imagining the deceased person peacefully resting in a perpetual state.

She’s an angel now or God needed another angel in heaven. He’s in a better place or resting in peace (R.I.P.).—GotQuestions.org

Those who mourn Prince's passing are wishing the same things for him. Naturally, we have no way of knowing if our assumptions about his other worldly whereabouts are true, unless we know what Prince himself believed. This is what we do know. As a child, Prince was raised by his grandmother in the Seventh Day Adventist tradition. Adventist Christians believe in what the bible says about death.

Death is an unconscious state for all people. When Christ, who is our life, appears, the resurrected righteous and the living righteous will be glorified and caught up to meet their Lord.

Growing up as an Adventist meant that Prince was exposed to teachings that life after death, and a peaceful rest are certainties for anyone who believes in Jesus Christ as his Savior.

In 2001, the adult Prince converted to Jehovah's Witnesses after being recruited by fellow musician and friend Larry Graham. Prince took his new faith seriously, and often spoke about its influence on his beliefs, and his life.

You've gotta have belief, It's the only way to make it through this maze. And God is here, he's everywhere, he ain't dead, contrary to popular opinion. And he will come again and it will be the most beautiful, powerful, electric moment, the sky's gonna go all purple and red.—Prince

The Jehovah's Witnesses doctrine that Prince embraced later in life also shaped his beliefs about heaven and hell, Jesus Christ, salvation and life after death. What Jehovah Witnesses believe about death is very different from Prince's former Christian upbringing.

Jehovah’s Witnesses deny that man has a soul or spirit that has conscious existence after death. To Jehovah’s Witnesses, the word “soul” is interchangeable with the word “human.” They don’t believe that humans possess souls which are separate and distinct from the body; rather, they maintain that humans are souls. This explains why Jehovah’s Witnesses believe that a person ceases to exist after they die.—Hank Hanegraaff

In contrast, Christians believe death is a stepping stone to eternal life for anyone who believes in God's son, Jesus Christ. And that everyone gets the opportunity to decide where they'll spend eternity before they die.

God loved the people of this world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who has faith in him will have eternal life and never really die. John 3:16 CEV

I believe Prince knew he was dying as he lay on that elevator floor. Based on having seen others nearing death, I also believe that Prince wasn't alone in the natural sense when he died. I believe before his last breath, Prince was given one final chance to choose where he would spend his eternity. One can only hope that he made the one and only choice that would assure him of true rest and peace with God.

Then I heard a voice from heaven say, “Put this in writing. From now on, the Lord will bless everyone who has faith in him when they die...they will rest from their hard work, and they will be rewarded for what they have done.”—Revelation 14:13 CEV