Many years ago I read an article posted by a twitter buddy stating that most often it was deceased mothers of the dying who visited them. Now, I’m sure I don’t have to point out by this time that not only am I not skeptical of the dead greeting the dying, as I’ve been blessed with enough otherworldly experiences of my own that I don’t question their validity in the least, but it also makes complete sense to me that mothers are there to greet their children. I remember during my pregnancies when each of my children were growing inside of me, it brought out such intensely overwhelming feelings of love and protection that it would be futile to attempt to describe them in words. As they continued to take up more space within me, I would sit and rub my hand over my belly and feel a foot kick me or a movement or jab so significant that it would take my breath away and I’d be delightedly reminded of their presence. Hubby maintains that none of our children got any rest in utero because as soon as they’d settle down I’d be rubbing my belly frantically in an effort to get them to “check in” with me. I’d tell hubby it was like having a buddy with me FULL time. I don’t think I realized until then that I’d spent a lot of my life, though generally in the midst of many people, feeling very alone. Now, my buddy was with me and there was such joy in that! I realized after giving birth, when I rubbed my now-empty belly out of habit only to be reminded that my buddy was no longer safely tucked away inside of me, that this would be my biggest lesson as a parent: LETTING GO. And that is what we do as mothers. We allow our babies to be delivered from the safe haven inside of us into the realms of an imperfect world. And we learn lessons over and over and over and over again in taking a step away from them. Letting them down from our grasp so that they can take wobbly steps, letting go of their hand as we leave them at school that first time, keeping a brave face for them as they go off to camp and you spend the first couple days of that week crying while you smell their pillow, sobbing the first few weeks after they leave for college and you walk past the now empty bedroom that they occupied while growing under your protection, and eventually, waving goodbye as they head off into their future. You pray that you’ve done right by them and have faith that they are prepared to be responsible in a life that you are no longer the co-pilot of. You let go. But your child is never gone from your heart. Because they ARE your heart. So yes @EvieStewart, and anyone else who may be longing for the reassurance of mom’s connection, I believe moms are often the ones there at the end of this life (which is by no means an END, but simply the doorway to another realm) and I can tell you with certainty that your mom, while not here physically, has never left you. Never doubt that when you are feeling her, she is there. Should you decide to have a child of your own someday, you will remember these words and you will receive an understanding that you may have been unable to comprehend before. And you will understand that no force is great enough; not even death, to pull your mother from you. She is with you always.
