faithful journey
Faithful Journey
I was the little girl that dared not leave her Mother’s side for overnight stays or long afternoons. I always had the feeling that she might not be there when I returned. As the years progressed, my freshman year away at college became my first real separation. Unashamed, I still cried nightly; remaining lost in my fears. I called home often and hearing her “hello” was overwhelming each time. She would respond in her typical casual manner saying, “Elizabeth, I love you – I’m still here”.
I came home for Winter break during that freshman year to find my Mother an almost entirely different person. She was tired, had actually gained a few pounds and just seemed distant. I spent a great deal of time following her around the farm, helping with chores, trying to squeeze in every moment that I could. I knew something was around the corner; however, I had felt that for as long as I can remember.
Near the end of my stay, I heard a song on the radio and in the midst of it playing; I was moved to say out loud, “She is going to die by my birthday this year.” It was heart-wrenching to hear this voice speak such an awful truth.
Before returning to college, I went with a friend to see a Reader for insight. The reading was rather dull. The room felt lifeless. As we were gathering our things to leave, the Reader asked us if we would stay for a cup of tea and perhaps a bit more of a reading. She said she was overwhelmed with a sense that a message was coming through for me but was not yet able to pick up on it. We shared a cup of tea and soon thereafter the message arrived. The Reader exclaimed that my Father was coming through. She described him in detail, noting unique information that clearly revealed his presence. She relayed his message. He repeatedly said that he was sorry. He exclaimed that I should go to “UB” (University at Buffalo) and that he was so very sorry for this. I asked the Reader why he is sorry. Was he sorry about his death? The Reader wept as she said no, he is sorry because it is about your Mother. She was so distraught she began to cry.
I knew that this message was confirmation to my outburst a week prior.
So, I quietly made arrangements and transferred back home to UB. I sent my Mom letters every week while away. When I arrived home in May I could see the events beginning to take place. She was sick. I urged her repeatedly to go to the Doctor’s; however, as she succinctly stated on many occasions, she would rather ‘crawl off into the woods.”
As my birthday approached, she worsened. She could hardly breathe and rarely moved from the couch. The day after I turned 19, she went by ambulance to the hospital. She was conscious for four days. In that short amount of time, I cradled her soul in my hands. I reassured her of how wonderful she was and how thankful I was for sharing this life with her.
Her last words to me those many years ago, still take my breath away. She kindly whispered, “Elizabeth, I’ve raised you your whole life to be ready for this moment – you will do just fine, and your Sister will always love you because you will take such good care of her. I love you.”
Within the next few minutes she became unresponsive and three days later, July 11th, 1994 at 7:11pm she passed. I stood there praying to all of our family who were already in Spirit to take her hands and lead her to that beautiful light. I prayed for her to feel no sense of regret, to feel whole, healed, and mostly – free.
As her heart stopped beating, her body gently rose up. Her eyes, although already closed, pursed together as if a bright light had just flashed before them. She arched her back softly and gently whimpered. As her hand was in mine, I felt the secret of the Universe. It was her spirit; her spirit freeing from her body. Overcome with many emotions, I just held on to her hand and remained still and silent. The moment passed and the sound of the radio that had been playing in her room came back into focus. It was “Faithfully”, by Journey.
A faithful journey indeed; as I have learned that the path of Love is one that never begins and never ends.