Unconditional Love
Don’t let the ugliness and chaotic world get between you and those you love.
The night before Mom died, my sister, my youngest daughter, myself, and my sister’s son stayed with Mom in the hospice room just a few blocks from where she made a home with Dad and raised us.
It was a stormy summer night. Rain lashed against the window, thunder rattled the windows, and lightning slashed across the sky as if acknowledging the turmoil each of us was feeling.
The room was darkened; one light was on in the hospice room to give the nurse enough light to check vitals, adjust oxygen, and give her morphine.
I cried quietly, hoping she wouldn’t see me being weak. She did, though, I watched her watch me.
I’m the youngest of four, and Mom thought I was the strongest and smartest.
I’m not.
We were all labeled; my sister was the better cook and a great mom, but over-emotional. One brother was successful and made smart decisions. The other was the black sheep, who made terrible decisions.
Mom loved us all. Not equally, but unconditionally. Individually.
Mom and I butted heads — a lot. We did crossword puzzles together. We talked about everything. She was super smart, and everyone would call her for answers long before search…
