In the last few weeks of Mom's life, she became severely disabled. She was no longer able to walk, stand (even with assistance), scoot herself backward in a chair, or change position in bed. Her greatest source of anxiety was moving from laying down in bed to the wheelchair and vice versa. In fact, she became terrified of these transfers. The only thing that would set her mind at ease was having me help with the transfers. It wasn't that I had any special training. I certainly didn't. I think she just appreciated that I would sit with her to help calm her nerves, talk with her about what we both thought the best procedure would be, and reassure her that everything was going to be okay.
Every single day, Mom would thank me for being there for her. She said that I seemed to understand and anticipate what she needed. She stressed how important my "patience" and "understanding" were to her. Every time she told me this, she cried.
In response, I would tell my mom that I was not doing anything special. After all, she would do the same for me without a moment's hesitation. I didn't care what we were doing -- I only wanted to be with her. I loved her more than anything and would do whatever I could to help her feel safe and comfortable. Then, I would change the subject and suggest that we go read a book or have some ice cream. I hated to see her sad and didn't want her to dwell on her increasing dependency. I just wanted to enjoy being together.
A few days before she died, my mom looked up at me from her wheelchair. She had tears in her eyes. She took my hand and said, "Kerry, the only thing I pray for is that you are someday rewarded for everything that you have done for me."
I told her that my actions didn't merit a reward. Again, I said that I loved her and that "the only thing that I wanted was to be with her." I would care for her for the next 20 years if God would allow it. But, that wasn't to be.
Several days after she died, I stopped at the Panda Express for lunch. As silly as it sounds, I had a feeling that my fortune cookie message would offer me some comfort amidst my grief, and I wanted to immediately open it. But, I refused to give into this feeling because I didn't want to be disappointed. So, I ate my lunch before I opened the cookie.
When I opened the cookie, this is what I found inside:
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Naturally, I was shocked when I read this. Those were the exact words that my mom had been speaking to me for weeks! It was crystal clear that my mom was telling me that my "reward" awaits me. She knew exactly what I wanted -- to be together.
Please know that I do not believe that this message was meant only for me. If I thought that, I would have kept this to myself. This message is for anyone who has ever lost a loved one and longs to be reunited. You will be together again. Just ask my mom.
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