Flying Away

It’s a warm summer afternoon. A breeze ruffles the leaves on the tree outside the open window, and the flowers bow their heads gracefully. The scent of freshly cut grass drifts in.

A girl – a woman, really, but since she’s the youngest in the family, she’ll always be a girl – sits at her mother’s bedside. The hospital bed is raised up so that her mother is sitting. She is painfully thin and drawn, the battle scars of her long and valiant fight against cancer. In contrast, her youngest daughter is strong and flushed with youth, her bright hair shining in the sun.

But her mother looks better than she has in days, even weeks. She is bright and alert and smiling. The daughter is reading to her mother from The Phantom Tollbooth, which was a favorite of her childhood. Mother even jokes about the story, and they laugh together, the old voice and the young voice mingling together with shared joy.

When the daughter is ready to leave that evening, the mother says to the nurse, “I’d like to fly!” The nurse, who knows and loves her, says, “You do? Well, I’ll get you some ativan.” Mother says happily, “I want to hang glide!”

The nurse goes out to get the medication. A doctor, who has overheard the conversation, says, “Let’s give her the full dose and really let her fly.” He, too, has become fond of her, as has most of the staff during her long stay at the hospital.

The nurse gives the mother the medication and asks, “Are you flying now, honey?”

Mother says, “I’m flying! I’m flying!”

Those were her last words.

I hope she is flying.

We love you, Mom. Always and forever. And just as we once shared a body and a soul, we will never be separated.

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15 comments on “Flying Away

  1. babs

    My thoughts are with you and your family Suzie *hugs* Why is it so strange that we feel connections to people we have never met?

  2. Marc

    That was beautiful and very moving Suzie.

    My heartfelt sympathy to you, and thank you for finding the courage to post at such a difficult time.

  3. Amber

    That was truly beautiful. I’m thinking of you, if you need anything, let me know. Take care of yourself, girl.


  4. LisaB

    What a beautiful ending. My thoughts are with you and your family; wish I could help make the next few weeks easier for you.

  5. karan

    Your mother gave a lasting gift there didn’t she? I’m sorry she’s gone, like Babs said, I feel a bit connected to her too. I wish you and your sister and your brother well.

  6. Kathleen

    I had a feeling when you hadn’t posted that Mom had finally given up the good fight. I trust you are doing okay and that your siblings are as well. Many hugs and much love. I wish I were there to give you a real hug.

  7. Pascale Soleil

    I’m so sorry for your loss.

    That was an absolutely lovely and transparent thing you wrote; your love shines through it and illuminates both you and your mother.

    Thinking of you.

  8. Les

    Hugs Suzie
    Will be thinking about you in the coming weeks.

  9. Mike

    …wishing peace for your mother and sending our hearts out to you.

  10. Tam

    Sending thoughts, prayers, and big hugs in your direction, Suzy.

  11. Jennia

    I think it’s not an ending but a beautiful beginning for your mother.

    Hope everything is okay, Suzy. 🙂

  12. Michelle

    Suzy-Girl, my heartfelt sympathy to you. This is such a beautiful post and I am sure it was a difficult one to do. My thoughts and prayers are with you during this difficult time. Sending you lots of love and ((( hugs ))).

  13. naridu

    *big hugs* you describe her as being surrounded by affection and love in these moments, soaring on a great colourful glider with absolute freedom. I’m sorry for your loss. Love is such a magnificent and painfull thing. I’m sorry.

  14. Alison

    I’ve been lax in reading blogs lately. I’m sorry to hear about your mother. That was a lovely story you wrote about her.

    And I feel sure she is flying.

  15. kim

    I, too, fell behind in my reading recently, and want to send you my belated thoughts.

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