I attended a Bereavement Support group today. I was relieved that only 3 other people attended. (I handle small groups better. It’s the introvert in me.)
It helped to talk about my mother’s death to strangers. I talked about the guilt feelings I had about not being there and about the last time I talked to her.
Someone brought up the fact that I needed to look at all the times I was with my mother throughout my life
Did my mother know I loved her? Did she know I was worried about her? Did she know I was praying for her?
Yes, of course.
The last time I spoke to my mother was when she called me from the rehab center where she was and told me she was in pain. One of the aides there was not gentle with her. She did not think the aide meant any harm. However, Mom had lost a lot of weight and was skin and bones. It hurt her to be moved. Gentle and slow was the way to go.
I called my brother who called the doctor who moved my mother back to the hospital.
My mother had called me for help.
And I answered her call.
Thank you, Lord, for helping me to see that.