When my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer the doctors said her days were limited. They couldn’t say exactly how long, but they did make it clear that it would not be long. She lived for three weeks.
Those three weeks were intense. One sister lived with our mom and three of us moved home for the duration. Our younger brother lived a short distance away and was there on a daily basis. As you can imagine, many people wanted to come and see mom as the news travelled. She wanted to die at home so we had a hospital bed set up in the living room where she could be surrounded by her collection of elephants, art, music, and a water fountain. It also made it nice for people to come and visit.
I noticed when people came to visit that they wanted to tell her how they felt but they held back for fear of upsetting her or getting emotional. I came up with an idea and I called it Mom’s Farewell Journal. I purchased a journal and marked off the first couple dozen pages for her children and grandchildren’s names. The rest of the pages were open for everyone else. When people came to visit, I asked if they would like to write something for mom in her Farewell Journal. As you can imagine, the initial look was that of wide eyes accompanied by a gasp. I would go on to explain the “guidelines”:
· People could write whatever they wanted to her
· The journal would remain by her beside for her eyes only; if she wanted to read it she would, if not, it stayed closed
· The journal would be buried with her
What I was looking for was a way for people to give expression to their feelings, but something wonderful and unexpected happened in the process. Our mom did read some of the entries. One afternoon as she sat curled up in her chair with a shawl and her reading glasses sitting on the edge of her nose, she began to weep as she read an entry. We never asked what was in the journal. And we didn’t ask that day either. We were all committed to keeping the promise to others that what they had to say was confidential and for her eyes only. Mom didn’t tell us what she was reading, but she did offer this, “I had no idea that I meant so much to people. Some of the things that I have read, I don’t even remember doing. It just goes to show, that you have no idea how one little gesture or act of kindness can make such a difference in another’s life.”
We instantly got it… what was meant to bring closure for those who needed to say goodbye, was also bringing closure to her as she prepared to make the journey. The journal went from being 1 inch thick to about 3 or 4 inches thick… people stuffed it with book marks, cards and letters that they wanted her to keep. I carried the journal with me to her funeral. With only minutes remaining before her service began and the casket was to be closed, my cousin Vance, who loved her dearly, stood solemnly writing his words of love to her. He handed me the book and I tenderly placed in the casket on her hands, wishing her God speed. The funeral director slowly lowered the lid to seal our promise.
Photo Credit: Nuttakit
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