I have not always understood mothers
Or God;
I suspect the two understand me
Far better than I know myself.

We had wanted to be by her side
In those last days,
In those final moments,
And so, we sat and then stood resolutely at her bedside.

Dutiful children we were,
When she grew restless,
We held her hand, touched and stroked her cheeks,
Tried to ease her pain, calm her restless state.

In the early pre-dawn hours,
She grew restless and agitated, thrusting her left arm into my chest
As if pushing me away,
But I knew better – it was simply an involuntary reflex to her pain and suffering.

Morning passed;
Still we sat…still we stood by her side,
Comforting, calming, reassuring,
Dutiful children we were.

At noon,
It was time to bathe her and change her bedding;
Our family left her side,
But we did not go far, just beyond the door to her room.

Mothers, I think do what mothers do best,
Shield and protect their children,
Handle the heavy lifting in this thing we call life.
God, I think, does the rest.

We had wanted to be with her in those final moments,
Wanted so to be by her side at the end;
Her left arm, this time thrusting upwards, told a different story;
Mother - and God - had work to do.

There is a time for mothers and children,
A time for mothers and God,
A time to go home ,
To be reunited with those we loved who went before us.

I have not always understood mothers
Or God,
But some days I listen.
And some days, even if somewhat imperfectly, I understand.

Bill Dixon,
Son of a former patient of CHRISTUS Hospital – St. Elizabeth