My mom passed away Sunday morning, November 11, at about 8:45. She had hospice here at home, where she wanted to be. It was extremely peaceful and if there is such a thing as a beautiful death, it was that. I miss her terribly, but I am so glad she didn't suffer. The day before, I told her that everyone from long ago was around her, that they were so glad to see her and that heaven was so beautiful. And, oh look, there are the dogs waiting to play. She turned to me and said, "Its very pretty". She slept most of the night, and then towards morning her breathing changed. I got up and told her I loved her and said I thought Grampa waiting for her. She smiled and reached up for him. Then she went back to sleep. I woke up in the morning with the thought "get up, she's waiting for you". I got up and told her I loved her and her breathing quieted, I waited for a while and then went and got a cup of coffee. I had been thinking during the night about when my grampa died. He had built the church and altar in her little village in central Wisconsin and when he died, and again when he was buried, they tolled the bell 87 times, once for each year of his life. I remember it was one of those clear crisp winter days and you must have been able to hear the bell toll out for miles over the countryside. When I got back to mom her breathing was still calmed and I stood and held her hand and told her how much I loved her, and the bells of the Methodist church down the block started to ring. I wondered if she could hear, I hoped she could, and so I took her hand and prayed the Lord's Prayer. When I said "Amen", she passed to God. She was never in any pain and never seemed to be afraid. I am so glad I was able to be with her.
