Threads of Love - When God Took Her Hand
Monday, November 21, 2011
By: Joyce Winslow

Threads of Love honors and memorializes my Mother after she died from Alzheimer's on August 10, 2007, and my poem to her describes when God took her hand from mine as she began her flight of freedom.

31,536,000 seconds......525,600 minutes......8,760 hours......365 days......12 months......1 year......

I childishly wanted to believe that if the first year anniversary wouldn't happen, then maybe it wouldn't be real, wouldn't be so final. But I had to put aside childish thoughts and dreams as I experienced your birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas, Thanksgiving and all the other holidays, all our birthdays, silly accidents and even a surgery all without you.

It has finally arrived. The 1st anniversary of your death. The memories, the details of that Friday, 9 days after my birthday and 2 days before Jeanette's birthday are forever etched within my body, within my soul, within who I am. I can see and feel it all now. You listening to the entire CD of Cristy Lane singing some of your favorite gospel songs and especially your favorite "One Day at a Time" before you finally chose to let go of my hand and take God's hand. (Oh, what memories I have of you singing that song along with her over the years, whether you were in the kitchen cooking, lying in bed with your earphones and books, sitting in your rocker, walking from one room to another as you took care of some household chore.)

I remember your room being so spiritually filled that morning. God Himself filled the room with His presence as He prepared your walk together across the bridge. Gordon, your grandson, there beside you, softly sharing his memories and telling you how much he loved you. And you responding to him, knowing he was there with you. You and I sharing one last time. You looking directly at me and me watching that one tear gently roll down your cheek as you responded to me when I told you "I loved you and that we would be okay." And with all my strength and love, I whispered in your ear, "Momma, remember asking me all those times about going home, wanting to know when were you going home." Again, I told you I loved you and said, "It's time, Momma. You're going home now." And in unbelievable peace, you softly breathed out as God took your hand from mine. It was 11:52 A.M., Friday, August 10, 2007.

There are so many more memories to that morning. Perhaps another year, another time I will be able to share them with others without such overwhelming emptiness and tears. But I can say that Gordon and I were forever changed in those moments that morning, our bond strengthened even more. In death, as in life, you once again deeply touched our lives.

As I continued my journey since that morning without you, I tried to honor you, to honor your memory. I released balloons each month on the 10th to acknowledge your flight of freedom and unsuccessfully tried to use that monthly experience to jump-start my own freedom flight. I donated more items and dollars in the past 12 months than I did in many years combined. Somehow giving to Hospice and other service organizations, donating inanimate objects and money, seemed "safer" than getting involved.

It is a difficult journey some of us have traveled and others continue to travel. After almost a year, I have come to believe our journey is never over - we simply take various detours but always return to the main highway at speeds that make time quickly pass or allow it to linger in the rearview mirror. We sometimes pass each other traveling a lonely road; we sometimes stop and chat while waiting for the light to turn green; we sometimes pull over at a rest stop to take a break, but not often; we sometimes drive aimlessly, without a map, without direction.

In the past 12 months I learned the depth with which one can withdraw and isolate, with which one can drive aimlessly. And yet, within the same moments of looking into the abyss, I cherished the moments we shared and deeply cherished the blessing of your passing because you were finally free and at peace.

I will continue to cherish our shared times, our blessings, the memories of our spiritual journey on which we embarked. In your memory and honor, Mom, I offer you another poem describing my last 12 months without you. I wrote this for you in my final "count-down" mode as this anniversary approached.


GOD TOOK YOUR HAND FROM MINE
Each night I watched the shadows on the wall,
Sometimes through tears, sometimes just in silence,
And wondered if you walked among those shapes
Or were they simply images of my mind.

Each day I searched among my memories,
Recalling those special moments we shared;
But sometimes I slipped into the abyss
Because of holding to the darkened clouds.

Each month I celebrated your going home
By watching my chosen symbols fill the sky
And hoped the symbolism was not lost on me
As I celebrated your flight of freedom.

But now the counting of nights, days and months
Seems less of an unexpressed urgency
As each moment, each minute becomes the total
Of twelve months since God took your hand from mine.


I shall hope that with this 2nd year I will discover a map and once again learn to drive with purpose and direction. And, I will continue listening to the chimes.