God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled. ~Author unknown
As many of you now know, I lost my mom two weeks ago.
Her passing wasn’t totally unexpected because she had several medical conditions (any one of which could’ve killed her). Yet death is always unexpected, and we’re never ready for it.
Mom went suddenly. She was on Hospice less than a week.
But her death was relatively peaceful. And painless. She kept her mind and wits about her until the end, insisting that things be done her way as much as possible.
The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. ~Author unknown
The only thing she couldn’t control was her location. I’d had to place her in a care facility (because I just couldn’t manage her medical conditions, and she ran off all our help, preferring that I alone tend to her).
It wasn’t easy, but I think my presence gave Mom some measure of comfort.
And being with her during her final days gave me comfort as well.
When her nurse called with an update on Mom’s condition — noting that things looked pretty bleak — I contacted our parish priest, who administered the final sacraments. Both of us figured Mom would go peacefully after that, but it was three days later when she took her last breath.
During one of our final week visits, when Mom talked repeatedly about “going to see Jesus,” I asked her to send me a sign when she made it to her new Home.
It was a half-hearted request. I don’t know if the dead can send signs to the living, or if the living just look for “signs” to reassure themselves after a death. Nevertheless, I think her sign appeared early yesterday.
For years, you see, Mom and I had many laughs over the rash of bats we’d gotten in the house until we had a handyman seal up a hole under the eaves where we thought they might be roosting.
And it worked. We haven’t had one swoopy visitor in ages.
That changed on Wednesday. Monkey and I came inside after his potty break, and I was fixing his food when a BAT soared past my head!
I shrieked and ran for my butterfly net in the garage, Monk on my heals barking. Eventually, I found the thing resting on the stone surrounding the fireplace, clamped the net over him (or her), scooped him up and carried him back out.
Easy-peasy. You’d think I haven’t done this a dozen times by now!
Not that I believe people turn into animals after they die. Not that I’d ever think my mom was a bat (well, maybe my twenty-year-old self might’ve thought that a time or two).
But still, it makes me wonder. Was that the sign I was asking for?
Gee, Mom, I’d have preferred a butterfly.
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 
So very sorry about yoyr mother’s death even though it wasn’t unexpected. Such a loss when a loved one dies. My mom died 16 years ago, and I miss her still. As for a bat vs. a butterfly… well, needs must. It’s not exactly the season for butterflies.
Thanks, Laurie. Yes, I guess butterflies aren’t out and about right now, but I was under the impression bats hibernated. Not this one, obviously! I lost my dad 15 years ago and miss him every day, so I empathize with you losing your mom. It’s never easy saying good-by, is it?
I’m so sorry you lost your mother, Debbie, and I hope you will find comfort in your memories and knowing that she went peacefully with you being with her. Sending a bat… maybe your mom has a sense of humor? Maybe butterflies will be following. My mother died 32 years ago; the pangs of loss and grief faded slowly but she sent me a lot of mourning doves over the years to comfort me. I think your mother will probably send more than one sign. 💕
Oh, Barbara, Mom did have a quirky sense of humor … and sending me a bat would be just something she’d do, knowing I’d get the message. I do hope she’ll send butterflies this summer though. I’m sorry you, too, have suffered through the loss of a mother. I’m trying to focus on how blessed I’ve been to have had her around all this long.
Yes, Debbie, I absolutely believe with all my heart that it was the “sign” you were asking for. But that’s because I believe with all my heart that the dead can/do communicate with the living. And my belief comes from experiences I’ve had with my own deceased parents. Many times.
And I also believe that because they are no longer in the “physical form”, they communicate on a much more deeper level, with nothing physical hindering them. They communicate in “spirit.”
Thank you so much for sharing your experience with us today. Know that you have been in my thoughts and prayers, sending you lots of love!
(((((((((( XXXX YOU XXXX ))))))))
“Gee, Mom, I’d have preferred a butterfly.”
LOVED that! Lol!
Ron, your words are so comforting — thank you. I think that, because death is such a mystery to us, we do tend to look for signs from those who’ve gone away before us. And it wouldn’t surprise me one bit for Mom to send me a bat. At least it was easily shooed back outside! I’ve missed you all something fierce and will be getting around to each of your blogs as soon as time permits so I can catch up on what’s been happening with you. xx
I’ve been thinking of you daily, remembering my own experience with my mother, hoping that yours left this life peacefully, and hoping as well that you were at peace at the end. I know how hard it was to make those decisions for her care, and for her to move to a new place, but we do what we must.
As for signs: who knows? I have a friend who was visited by an early Cardinal two days after her husband died. It was January, and there was no reason for that bright red bird to perch on a branch outside her kitchen window, singing its heart out, but there it was. To this day she believes it was a sign, sent to bring comfort and joy. For you, the bat was just as appropriate, given that you and your mother had shared experiences with them. It wouldn’t have meant anything to most people — but it meant something to you. That’s what signs are supposed to do.
Thank you so much, Linda. I appreciate your concern. Yes, Mom’s passing was peaceful, and both of us were happy she was lucid and could communicate right up until her last breath.
This bat seemed “kinder” than previous visitors, looking back on it. I didn’t seem to have trouble locating it or capturing it, unlike earlier swoopers. Perhaps that, too, was Mom’s doing. Odd, though, that it arrived from the south when the wind that morning was blowing so strongly from the north.
I am so sorry for your loss.
Thanks very much, Cindy.
What a lovely post. It sounds like your mother’s final days were filled with many blessings. It’s difficult losing our mothers at any point in life (theirs OR ours), so you have my sympathy.
Hey, a bat seems appropriate in this case – she must have wanted Monkey to have his own experience with one!
Thank you, Kelly. I don’t guess we’re ever really “ready” to lose a loved one, but Mom went basically as she’d hoped for — without suffering, without losing her mental faculties. And the staff at the care facility was very attentive and supportive, keeping me informed even when I couldn’t be there every minute with Mom.
Poor Monk didn’t know what was going on with the bat though. I guess those things don’t have much odor, and Monk quickly assessed that it wasn’t flying food! Thankfully, shooing Bat outdoors was accomplished without too much ado!
I’m sorry for your loss, Debbie. The fact that you and your mom had many laughs over the bats convinces me that she is indeed at her new home and happy to be there. Thanks for sharing this story, and I hope more memories of your mom will help you through this difficult time.
Thank you, John. I can almost see the gleam in Mom’s eye at sending me a bat — she’d have gotten a real kick out of something like that! I’ve always associated male cardinals with signs of loved ones who’ve passed, so maybe next time, she’ll send me one of those. In the meantime, I’ve got my hands full tidying up her affairs. Keeping busy, for me at least, is balm for the sorrow.
Keep your eyes open. Bless you, Debbie.
I was thinking of you in the (very windy) wee hours this morning, wondering how you were doing, and here is your post. 🙂
I think the bat was the sign you were hoping for… “Bats often represent death in the sense of letting go of the old, and bringing in the new. They are symbols of transition, of initiation, and the start of a new beginning.”
Sounds perfect to me. 💕
I didn’t know that about bats, Eliza — thanks so much for doing the research and sharing it with me. You’re right — sending a bat seems practically perfect, under those circumstances! And the poor thing had to work to get inside because the door opens to the south, while a stiff wind was blowing from the north.
I bet your mom had a sense of humor, right? Of COURSE this was a sign she sent to let you know she made it and she’s just fine. When Aunt Vi was near the end I asked her if she’d try to send me a sign that she was OK. She said she would. The day of her funeral she sent a huge red cardinal to stare in the window during the luncheon, and the next day another huge red cardinal chirped at Katie and I at a rest stop on our way down to Alabama. I’m sure they were her saying she was OK. My mom stops by once in awhile in the form of a mockingbird. Sometimes I think Dad goes by in a big orange truck right when I need him. I truly believe. And I believe your mom was letting you know she’s OK too. Hugs.
Mom did indeed have a sense of humor, Dawn. I can still hear her laughing with me as we chased former bats around the house, trying to evict them before we went to bed! I remember your talking about the cardinals that showed up after your Aunt Vi passed. I think part of me was sort of expecting Mom to send one as her sign. However, I imagine she assumed I’d think of my dad instead, so she had to come up with something just the two of us would get. It worked!
So sorry to hear about your loss, Debbie. As you say, it’s never possible to fully expect a death even when we know it’s coming – maybe our hearts just refuse to accept it until it happens. I’m glad your mother felt she had some control up to the end, and I know that having you there must have been a great comfort to her. Grief is hard and comes in waves, so take care of yourself – and Monkey will take care of you too.
Thanks so much, FF. Yes, I’ve heard that grief comes in waves. And I’ve also heard that I have to be gentle with myself during this time of sorrow. Monk does help (aggravating though he can be!). He refuses to leave me alone, almost as if he’s attached to my leg all day long. It’s probably a good thing he wasn’t around for the solid year that I cried over losing Dallas!
I think it was a sign! If it had been a butterfly, you wouldn’t have immediately thought of your mother. I don’t claim to understand how these things work, but I do think there are times when our loved ones who have died reach out to reassure us that they are okay and they want us to be okay too. And that’s enormously comforting, especially in times of profound loss such as yours. Continued prayers as you mourn…..
Thank you so much, Ann. In my heart, I know you’re probably right. Mom would’ve realized that a pretty butterfly wouldn’t carry the same oomph as a bat. At least the bat was evicted easily! You’re so fortunate to still have your mom — hug and cherish her, as I know you will!
Also, I wanted to say how sorry I am about your mom’s passing! You took wonderful care of her when she needed you, and you were with her at the end. I’m sure that meant the world to her!
Thanks for saying that, Ann. I did what I could, for as long as I could, and I do believe Mom was comforted by my presence. I miss her (but then, I lost my dad 15 years ago and still miss him).
There are almost no words that can make your loss better except I’m sorry about your mom and I’m praying for you and your family. I can tell you this that as time passes, the sharp pain of the loss does diminish a bit and all the beautiful memories bubble to the surface!
The sweet essence of their personality shines. The beautiful things they have done for others, their funny sayings and many other things about them replay in your mind.
I KNOW where my mom is and I know she is getting so much love right now and so is yours. I pray that the Holy Spirit who is our comforter is ministering to you right this minute and will continue to bring you the peace you need in this season. God bless you my friend.
Thanks so much for your kind words, Tanya. Yes, Mom was a believer, and yes, it’s a comfort knowing she’s at peace. She didn’t have a painful death — or a prolonged one — and that, too, is a comfort. I’m sorry you lost your mom as well. It’s rather unsettling to be an orphan, but I’m muddling through these swirling waters and look forward to those beautiful memories bubbling to the surface!