The Final Hello

IT SEEMS LIKE MOTHERS HAVE TO SAY “GOODBYE” more than anyone else on earth. The list seems almost endless and runs the gamut of emotions, from sadness to delight, from loss to fulfillment.Through all the ups and downs, the years bring on an endless string of goodbyes. There is that first day of school when that young life begins the process of spreading his or her wings. Many are the parents who can attest to the tears they shed that day. Then come those occasions when the son or daughter are older and no longer wish to just cuddle and accept a kiss in front of others – another painful goodbye.The years continue and to the previous list of farewells come those marvelous occasions where the children marry, but the mother realizes that one of her chief tasks in life has been achieved and all she can hope for is that all her years of nurture will be remembered and rewarded.In between it all often come the farewells, perhaps, to a career, that very first home, deaths in the family, even good health. A mother is always there, being present as required, watching over the grandkids, helping with a move. But ultimately she must say goodbye to a world and people she can no longer gather around her, keeping them supported and secure. It all represents one of the more subtle tragedies of motherhood.And yet there’s more than one side. Someone who puts so much love and care into people might not realize it at the time, but all that attention to others will come back in the end. I have witnessed this in the past two months to a degree that is remarkable and awe-inspiring.Jane’s 92-year old mother, Margaret, is in her final days at St. Joseph’s Hospice in London. She would have every right to complain of pain, a sense of saying goodbye to her home for the last time, and of her loss of independence. She had graduated from university in 1950, at a time when a woman pursuing such a path wasn’t all that common. She was married and for her entire life with her husband there was this mysterious and stirring sense that deep and romantic love was still in the air when they were together. And she had four daughters, as distinct from one another as you might expect but who have, together, offered loving support in these final times.I sometimes spend the night with Jane and her Mom and it’s so much like going to church or being caught off-guard by something mysterious in Nature. The entire atmosphere of the hospice is like some grand orchestral piece that is meant to harmonize support as the time approaches. Staff and volunteers touchingly understand that they are the hands that carry someone like Margaret through the final transition. Family is always there, catering to Margaret in every detail.And so there she is: a loving mother surrounded by people ready to say goodbye and understanding that her time is short. One would think such a farewell would characterize the remaining hours or days, but Margaret has made sure to transcend that outlook as only a mother can.Following one of her bad nights, Jane and I got up in the morning, wondering if she was still with us. Jane kissed her forehead, silent. And as if the clouds broke on the horizon, Margaret opened her eyes, smiled as beautiful a smile as I have ever seen in my life, and said, “Hello, Jane.” I flooded with tears then, as I do now. Jane fell into her arms – two mothers celebrating life.Everything this remarkable woman worked on and believed in all her life was coming to her just as she needed them. Her daughters never left her alone. A caring staff was always there for what needed to be done. God was in her thoughts as she had hoped. And increasingly she was thinking about her husband, who she believed would embrace her the moment her eyes shut for the last time, taking her for a waltz.Even in her advanced years, and in the face of life’s last visitor, she had done what she always did – gathered her family, loved, showed grace, thanked everyone for their ministrations. Like every mother she had her life of goodbye’s, but in this, her most challenging and final time, she was saying “hello,” just as mothers always do and why we eventually always rush back to their embrace.I possess none of those remarkable qualities Margaret is showing, but for me, right now, it is enough to embrace the miracle of motherhood and how all good things return to a caring woman just as she needs them. When I see her saying “hello” to her daughters, I realize that even in death, love will prevail. Such is the genius of motherhood.