For several years before Alzheimer’s forced Mama to go to a nursing home, I’d often drive to where she lived and spend several days with her, sometimes a week or more. Since I was staying an extended time, I’d go by myself, which always caused Mama to worry more about me than she would have if my husband had been traveling with me.
Knowing she was worried, I’d call her every time I stopped to take a break during the four-hour trip. I’d tell her where I was and how much longer it would be before I arrived. At the close of those brief cell phone conversations, she’d say, “Honey, I’ll be praying for you.” And I knew she would be!
Because Mama and I enjoyed our days together, they passed all too soon, even when I stayed a week. When leaving day came, both of us felt sad as I packed for the trip home. Once I’d carried all my bags to the car, I’d go to the chair where Mama always sat and stoop down to give her one last hug and kiss.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Mama would always say.
“I wish I could stay longer, too.”
Having said that, we’d say, “I love you!” one more time before I walked away.
We never cried when we said good-bye, not wishing to upset the other one, but I cried as I drove down the long driveway that led to the highway. I’m sure Mama was blinking back tears, too, as she sat in her chair and crocheted baby blankets.
I kept my car radio tuned to the same station she was listening to, which, it seemed, linked me more closely to her as I drove farther and farther away. As was my custom, I called her at least every hour, while stopped at a traffic light or a gas station.
After assuring her I was alright and “making good time,” I’d say, “Pray me home, Mama.”
“I am,” she’d reply. And I knew she was!
But Alzheimer’s has robbed her of that ability, as far as I can tell. So, whenever my husband and I go to visit Mama, I no longer ask her to pray me home. Instead, I am praying earnestly for her as she makes the long journey to her heavenly home.
I pray that all her needs will be met and that those who care for her and those who visit her will “love on her” as I do whenever I’m there. I pray that God will continue to give her the strength she needs for the living of each day, whatever it holds for her. I pray that as her earthly life comes to an end that our Lord will continue to be with her, just as He has been throughout her life.
I pray all that—and more—for Mama as she is nearing the end of her long, difficult journey home. I go to sleep each night praying for her. I wake up in the mornings praying for her. I pray for her throughout each day, just as she always did for me as long as her mental faculties enabled her to.
Since Mama always made sure my sister and I were fed and as comfortable and content as she could possibly make us, we are now doing the same kind of things for her. In the process, we pray for her, just as she always did for us.
©2010 by Johnnie Ann Burgess Gaskill jgaskill@charter.net , www.jgaskill.com