Holding Hands

 

We had a very full house growing up. There were 8 of us kids, Mother and Daddy and our Uncle Dale all living under the same roof. I actually slept in a bed right next to my mom and dad's bed until I was about 8 years old. (I suppose it could have been worse: rumor has it that my sister Jo slept in a crib until she was 6 years old!) My bed was next to my mom's side of my parents' bed. On nights when I'd have a hard time falling asleep, she would reach out and hold my hand. Having my hand in her's magically comforted me and I was able to drift off to sleep.

I spent the last several days of my mom's life with her in the hospital/hospice. Several of us kids would spend the nights with her as well. We would take turns with who slept where. When it was my turn to sleep on the cot next to my mom's bed, there were several times when she reached out to hold my hand. It took me right back to those childhood nights when her hand would reach out to comfort me. Only now I couldn't help but wonder if she was reaching out to comfort me or to have my hand comfort her. I suppose it was a bit of both. But this time she was the one who was able to drift off to sleep.

After my mom died and I was remembering her reaching out for my hand, I recalled something that happened  when I was little and slept in that bed next to my parents' bed. I wrote the following in remembrance of that.

                                                                 Mama’s Gone

I’m four years old. I awake and in the early morning light and begin to search for you. You aren’t in the living room cleaning. You’re not in the laundry room sorting clothes. You aren’t in the kitchen starting breakfast. With each empty room, my heart races a little faster, my worry grows a little more. I decide you must be upstairs with the dust mop, cleaning the hall floor. I climb the stairs only to find you aren’t there either. I’m terrified. Through my sobs, I cry out, “Mama’s gone! Mama’s gone!” Bedroom doors burst open. Startled and sleepy eyed brothers and sisters rush out to see what's wrong. Suddenly, I hear the most beautiful sound in the world: your gentle voice. “I’m here. I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been here the whole time.” I look and there you are at the bottom of the stairs. I rush down the steps into your waiting arms. You tell me that you were asleep in your bed, right next to my own, like always. When I awoke, I forgot to check the most obvious spot of all before wandering the house in search of you.

Now, all these years later, I feel like I’m that four year old child again. My heart is crying out, “Mama’s gone! Mama’s gone!” as I desperately search for a glimpse of you:  A long forgotten picture, an old card with your signature, a blanket with your scent…a piece of you that I can hold onto. Suddenly I hear the most beautiful sound in the world again. “I’m here. I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been here the whole time.” As I rush into the memory of your loving arms, I am reminded once again that I need only look in the most obvious spot of all to find you…my own heart.