I returned home and needed rest desperately. Our waterbed had sprung a major leak the day prior and it was drained and empty. My husband had got our 8 year old son off to school and had left for work. He and I both worked for my fathers business which allowed him to stay close to mom’s condition while I rested.
I threw some quilts and a pillow onto the living room floor and fell into an exhausted immediate sleep. When I woke it was my husbands voice I heard. He was at my feet calling down in gently tone to wake me, he simply said my name.
Before he said another word I opened my eyes and said,
“I know momma’s gone, she was here at the foot of my bed awhile ago”.
How can we explain how these things happen. Was I in a dream state or awake when she visited? I remember she said nothing. She was looking down at me from the foot of my bed on the floor. She was in her hospital gown. It was a dingy white with a small blue print. She was barefoot. That’s all I remember. I don’t how long she was there and didn’t remember her leaving. All I knew was I had seen her.
It was a Wednesday morning at 9:08 when she passed. She had just had her 51st birthday and I was 26 years old. I got up to begin my day with an hour or so of sleep.
The rest if the next days were typical to most funerals. Hard to get through but typical. Once the hardest of the grieving time was over life got back to some kind of normal.
I wrestled with questions that I needed answers to and made some calls. I called my aunt Joy to ask her who the preacher was that came to see mother. She had selected him from the yellow pages. I found him and called to speak to him about that night he came to see her. He said he had prayed with her but she spoke no words. He felt she had heard and understood him though. That was about all he could tell me.
Days turned into weeks. I do not know exactly when it was, sometime that summer. I was trying to find some answers that no one seemed interested enough to care to talk about. Whenever I tried to speak to family about them they didn’t want to hear. Why would they?
- They had not been in the room when my aunt Joy spoke to me about being saved.
- They were not there when momma spoke and cried after the preacher prayed.
- They thought I was crazy when I spoke about her visiting me at my bed.
It still amazes me when I reflect back. I had no one to turn to.
Daddy had come across a simple bible among mom’s things and thought it might have been my grandmothers. He had asked if I wanted it. We were not sure where it had come from or why mother had it, but I said yes, I would take it. I had put it with the few of her things I had kept.
One day in the quiet of my home while alone I reached for it. It was hardly handled or used. Nothing had been written in it to show ownership but now it was mine. Surely I thought, maybe I can find something in here that will explain some of things I was troubled by.
It is hard to understand how someone that is 26 years old does not have enough basic knowledge of a bible to know that there was an old and new testament. That one was written before Jesus came and the other after, but I did not know that. I looked it over and not being an avid reader looked over the first few pages and thought, “oh boy this is hard to understand and such a lot to read.”
I managed my way to a book with a name of my oldest brother. That seemed a good enough place to start. The book of Daniel is not an easily understood writing for the best of men. Here I was plodding through it for answers. It is humorous to me now but I was ready to try and figure out as best I could what it was saying. Upon finishing it, I had no clear answers but knew somewhere within these pages they had to be there.
How precious that must have been to my Lord. I was on a mission. Every free alone moment I had to spare was spent looking, seeking as if for buried treasure. Words ran together and I had little understanding of most of what I read. I can’t tell you where all I read, I just read and kept reading. For several months this went on and then one day I found the book of John, the gospel according to John.
Some of this I could understand better and Jesus too was a part of this book. Maybe I was getting somewhere.
Ms Linda Darlene