Tag Archives: hospice house

Be an Overcomer

There are some things in my life that bring me to a full sweaty mess.

There are many more things that bring me to my knees in a puddle of tears or a need to vomit.

Tonight it was tears.

I went back to Hospice House where my mom died, with dad at her side, on December 26th.

I felt a pull to go back, but also a humbling fear that brought me to tears. I knew that I needed to do this for myself. I knew I needed to overcome my overwhelming feelings of grief and love, despair and compassion that Hospice House brings up for me.

I drove my car north followed by a bright, clear moon and clean roads, as I did many times last fall visiting mom and dad.

I arrived at Hospice House.

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I entered the very familiar building and went to a chair to await the seminar about grief and the holidays. I tried not to look too hard, but it was the same.

Beautiful spaces

Christmas decorations

Warmth

Love

Healing

I sat. I cried. I listened to great strategies on Christmas in the midst of grief.

I wrote a card with my mom’s name on it and placed it on the memory tree.

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I had some juice and cookies and took a wander down the hall to room number eight.

Yup, it’s still there.

Yup, mom still isn’t.

Unless she’s now a man. A bald-headed one.

Nope, no mom here on earth.

A checked out the fish tank down the hall.

I walked back to the living room and put another name on the tree for my Auntie Gail. I remembered her putting her son, Michael, on the memory tree last Christmas. My cousin was killed in a motor vehicle accident many years ago. I put Michael’s tag on the tree and told him how much his mom loves him.

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And then I walked out.

An Overcomer of my emotions.

An Overcomer of fear.

An Overcomer of doing the hard stuff.

Overcome.

Overcame.

Overcomer.

Be Seeing Green!

We went to visit Papa.

We saw one of these:

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But it was green.

It was the exact green transport ambulance that brought my mom from the hospital to hospice house last Christmas.

And what did my three year old say as we drove by this green transport ambulance:

“Mom, look! An ambulance! We can tell it to go to heaven, get Nana and take her to Papa’s house!” 

I wish son!  I wish!

My three year old thinks an ambulance took Nana to heaven.

He now calls my parent’s house, Papa’s house.

He wants to bring Nana back to Papa too!

Me too, son! Me too!

In sadness.

With gratitude for these moments with my boys.

Goodnight!