A Christmas Homecoming

I’m not sure where the story begins. Maybe it started when my mom was born, or when my parents met. By that same token, the ending isn’t an ending, it’s a beginning. 

Most everyone thinks their parents are the best. Mine truly were. I didn’t know how special or unique they were until my dad died. I just thought that all families were like ours, at least to a degree. I knew there were differences, but yet in my innocence or maybe my ignorance, I thought all parents were great. I just thought all daddies were like mine. It wasn’t until I was almost 50 when a childhood friend said to me, “Not all dads were like yours”, that I put any thought into the differences with my parents. 

It was an eye-opening conversation. (I wasn’t naive, I knew kids were abused and such. I knew there were differences in families and parents, but I never thought about my dad or mom being special to other people) My dad has been gone for over 12 years now and people still talk about him like they just talked to him the other day. My own personal superhero. He truly was larger than life. He touched so many lives. Over 3000 people attended his visitation and funeral services. The legacy and heritage he left are rare and unmatched.  

I write the small back story about my dad because my mom wasn’t who she was without my dad, just as he wasn’t the man he was without my mom. My dad’s story is for another time, from his life to his death he defied all odds. From poverty to prosperity.  

When my dad died a huge part of my mom died too. I know that sounds cliche, but it was true. He was her life, and she was his. He had been the steady constant through all of her illnesses. He took great care of her. She did not fare well when he died. She had been with my dad since she was 14, married at 16, and they had been together for 58 years.

My mom was just my mom. She was always special. Her birth came after an older toddler sister had died from a fall. She filled a void and empty place in my grandparents’ hearts. While one child cannot replace another, the joy she brought amid their deepest grief and pain stayed with her all of her life.  

As my mom aged, she began to have some health issues. Heart attacks and strokes dotted the years. High blood pressure and minor TIA’s became a normal part of life. Countless stents in her kidneys and heart, quadruple bypass twice. More hospital stays, prescriptions, tests, and doctor visits than can be counted.  

She was tired, but she never gave up her resolve to live. None of her health issues affected her mind or motor skills. But the physical toll took its fury out on her mobility. She became weaker and weaker. My once vibrant busy nonstop mom was now limited in her mobility. Moving through her home became daunting. She struggled to navigate the various levels and massive rooms. Simple tasks were no longer simple. It had been years since she had been upstairs in her home. Getting around had become more and more difficult.  

Christmas was a big deal in our family. HUGE. This was for many reasons. My dad never celebrated Christmas as a child. He was 18 years old before he ever received his first Christmas present. While he knew about Christmas as a child, mountain people did not take days off for celebrations and festivities - at least not these mountain people. Their life was steeped in deep poverty. Christmas Eve was actually Christmas in our house. We would spend Christmas Eve afternoon and evening at my grandparents’ house. Typically, until late in the night. Before leaving my dad would load us into the car and pretend to need to go check something out or run an errand. It was during that time mom would place all the presents under the tree. Then when we arrived home late that night, we would have Christmas! More often than not we would stay up all night, and crash under the tree sometime the next afternoon. As us kids married and had our own families, we would go on to continue the tradition.  

While we never wanted for anything, ours was a carefree wonderful childhood, we didn’t get a lot of things throughout the year. Even when money was tight, we kids never knew it. Times were different. Raising 7 kids isn’t for the weak at heart. Shopping was a treat, typically reserved for needs and occasionally for pleasure. However, when we did shop, it was a grand occasion and we always dressed to “go to town.”  

This made Christmas all the more special. The house was decorated to the max. My mom had a flair for decorating and parties. She would go all out. Christmas was special, from clothes to family parties to church, to food, to presents, to dozens and dozens of cookies and treats, everything was done with great care and thought.  

We were spoiled beyond belief with presents. My aunt used to say it should have been against the law for all the gifts we received. Maybe it was because my dad never had Christmas as a child, or his lost childhood. Maybe it was because they just wanted to and could. Whatever the reason, our Christmas was filled with love, food, and family, and lots of presents. And they always had room for one or two or ten more. My mom always had extra gifts tucked away for the occasional extra guest or friend that might drop in.   

My mom was a mighty woman of God. She had tremendous faith and showed Jesus everywhere she went. She was extremely giving. One thing she taught me was how to set the atmosphere. For as long as I can remember music played in her house. She was a homebody. While she loved to travel and did so regularly, her heart was her home. My mom loved her home.  The decision to move her into assisted living did not come easy.  It had reached a point where our family and mom were at more risk of injuring ourselves trying to help her in the event of a fall. Bathing became more difficult. While she wasn’t an invalid, she had become homebound due to weak muscle tone. We simply did not have the experience or setup to care for her. Through a series of additional health scares, coupled with some falls, the difficult decision was made to move her to an assisted facility close to home. Leaving her home was extremely difficult for not just her but for all of us. While the hope was the stay would be short-term, the realization was that it may be permanent. Home would never be the same. Life would never be the same. Changes were on the horizon. Again. Little did we know nothing would ever be the same.  

And yes, her stay would be short.  

We moved her in late May. We always told her she could visit home any time, and with time and physical healing she would be able to live at home again. 

Her goal was Christmas. She told everyone she would be home by Christmas. In her mind, she may have been thinking of her own home. She always said God told her she would be home by Christmas. Little did we know that she would literally be going home - to heaven- on Christmas Day.  

I spent her last Christmas Eve with her. We had lunch and shared presents. She didn’t feel well and was rather quiet. She was tired. I’m sure it weighed on her heart that the next day was Christmas. Memories from Christmas’s past, and the realization that she wasn’t going home. The day was a mixed bag of emotions.  

I received the call at 2:30 am that mom was non-responsive. We rushed to the facility where EMS was working on her and they were able to revive her. We transported her to the hospital, where she was placed on life support and several tests were run. Late morning it was determined there wasn’t any brain activity. The decision was made to wait until evening to disconnect life support, as this would give all the family time to say goodbye. Having been through 2 other times of disconnecting life support, we all knew what to expect. But this time was slightly different.  

As my mom lay there in the hospital connected to life support, she looked better than she had in months, maybe years.  Her color was perfect. There was so much peace surrounding her and in the room. Love. It didn’t matter that it was Christmas, that only made the moment so much sweeter. As I stated, Christmas was and is a HUGE deal in our family. So, for her to go home on Christmas was a big deal.  

We believe God honored her heart by taking her home on that day. 

December 25, 2017. 

I could not have hand-picked a better day for my mom to pass. Although it might sound strange to some, to us it was perfect. And we have the reassurance that we will see her again. She is alive, well, and whole in heaven. 

Christmas didn’t take on a sad meaning for me as a result, in fact quite the opposite. I love the traditions she gave our family. I love the memory of both her and my dad that lives strong not just on Christmas, but daily. I don’t miss my mom any more on the anniversary of December 25 than I do on June 2 or any other day. Her going home on Christmas just gives us another reason to celebrate the day. Her legacy lives on.

God is faithful. 

Love,

Audrey