Mother May I?

4 min readMay 6, 2020

Today, May 5th 2020, marks the fifth anniversary of my mother’s last day on earth.

As my thoughts turn toward the final day with my mother and the last few years of her life, I think of all of the people out there who are losing parents during the time of this pandemic. I know that the impact of the coronavirus is making this trying time even more difficult to navigate. My thoughts are with all of you. At the risk of appearing insensitive, please indulge me as I reflect on the fifth anniversary of my mom’s passing.

Daughter Becoming a Mother to her Mother

My mother spent the last few years of her life in an assisted living facility. Objectively, she knew that it was a move that she needed to make. However, when faced with the actuality of moving from her house into assisted living, she began protesting. Loudly and often. This was a time of sadness and frustration for both of us. Our conversations during those first few months revolved around explaining to her over and over again why she couldn’t move back to her house. This was one of the hardest times in my life.

My heart goes out to my friends who can’t go visit their mothers, and fathers, during this time because of the COVID-19 shutdowns of nursing homes. My friend Linda moved her mother into a home just days before the shutdown. I think of her mom struggling to adjust to this new, and final phase of her life without the comfort of her loved ones popping in for a reassuring hug and a cup of coffee. It is so very sad to think of Linda and her mom visiting through a glass door.

Saying Goodbye to Your Mother

My heart also goes out to the women who are unable to be with their mothers and fathers during the final days of their lives. I kind of stumbled into one of the most significant events in my life the night my mother died. After my mom passed my siblings left and I was in the room with my mom and the Hospice nurse. The nurse asked me if I wanted to bathe and dress my mother before the funeral home was called to come and collect her.

This was uncharted territory for me. I wasn’t aware that it was even an option. The memories of what happened next are permanently imbedded in my mind and in my heart. The nurse invited me to pick out a change of clothes to dress her in after her bath. While I was choosing the “perfect” outfit for her to wear on her journey, the nurse filled a basin with warm water as she found a bar of sweet-smelling soap and my mom’s favorite body lotion.

With all of the preparations made, I began to bathe my mother.

Mother may I have the honor of washing your face? The lovely face who looked into my eyes with complete love and adoration on the day I was born.

Mother may I have the privilege of washing your arms? The arms that held me from the first minutes of my life until our last embrace before you slipped away.

Mother may I have the honor of washing your hands? The hands that held mine, keeping me safe, until I was ready to venture out into the world.

Mother may I have the privilege of washing the still visible stretch marks on your stomach? The marks caused by me as I grew inside your womb.

The Going Out and the Coming In

Mother may I please stay with you feeling the last of the warmth recede from your body? As I say my final good byes to you, the woman who brought me into this world, I feel so very privileged to witness your going out, as you witnessed my coming in. Let us sit together as we wait for the funeral home to come and collect you.

When men from the funeral home arrived they lifted her like she was a precious porcelain statue onto the gurney. They zipped the black body bag half way up, just enough to secure her on the cart. Next, they laid a quilt over my mom leaving her exposed from the heart up. I walked with them as they rolled her out to the hearse where I said my final goodbye as they placed her in the hearse.

Life Goes On

And so, life goes on in our family. Passed down from mother to daughter, to granddaughter, to great-granddaughter. And so on, and so on. Where would we be without you?