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Tears From Heaven

My Mom was buried today at a National Cemetary here on Long Island. I think it was appropriate because my Mom was a POW in WWII as a child in Indonesia (she was born in the Netherlands) and her family has always been very involved in the military. My Dad is a WWII veteran and he was entitled to the plot there because of his service. Someday — far in the future, I pray – he can join her there.

It rained. My Mom loved rain, so it was completely appropriate. I wore Mom’s gorgeous black mink coat, as I knew she’d want me to do. We always shared things and she had let me wear the coat many times before, so I knew she wouldn’t mind. In fact, she’d have liked that my Dad and I made a good showing, so to speak. To do her proud. I think we did that and I also think Mom asked God to hold off on the rain while we were outside at the cemetary so her beautiful coat wouldn’t be ruined.

Because as soon as we got back on the highway, the heavens opened up and it rained. Tears from Heaven to echo the tears I’ve been shedding for the past days since she left us.

About three weeks before we realized anything was wrong, my Mom had a sort of vision. She was resting on the couch in the living room, sort of half-awake and half-asleep when she saw her mother and father, her recently deceased brother, who was her best friend since they were about 3 years old, and her uncle, who thought of her as a daughter. They didn’t speak, but they communicated a thought to her. They said “We’ll take care of you.”

Three weeks later, we were in the Emergency Room. Three months later, she’s with them in Heaven.

We had hope, throughout this all-too-short ordeal, that “her angels” as we referred to them, would see her through the illness and help her recover. Now, of course, we know they meant something else.

It’s beautiful to think that she and my uncle are reunited. They were so close in life, she was devastated when he died last year. She named my brother after him and to this day, when the phone rings after midnight, I always think it’s got to be one or the other of them. Then I take a step back and realize it can only be my brother now and I feel a little pang, missing my uncle. He was as special as she was.

I will miss her the rest of my days but I hope and pray that she’s with me, watching over me as she always did. Since she got sick, I told her the one thing I missed the most was that we couldn’t talk as we had before. My Mom was a talker. She always had such great advice for me and for everyone she met. Never pushy, but always wise, she helped so many people from her friends to the students she counseled for so many years as an educator and law professor. She was so beautiful. I know it’s cliche, but my Mom was really, truly beautiful. When she was younger, so many people said she looked like Grace Kelly. Blonde, blue eyed, with high cheekbones and a beautiful smile, she was never vain. She liked to look nice, but she wasn’t shallow. She had a depth to her and an intelligence that just wouldn’t quit. How many women of her generation would go back to law school in their 50′s and drag their daughters with them? Mine did. I would never have gone to law school or achieved any of the things I’ve achieved without her guidance.

When I wanted to quit my big money job and write, I asked her advice. I expected her to say, “What? Are you kidding? You went to school for so long and now you’re going to chuck it all to write? Get real.” Instead, she surprised me by saying, “Write. Do what you love.” With that sage advice, I launched yet another new career path. (I’ve had probably 4-5 different “careers” at this point.)

She was so sick for too short a time but I missed her talking to me. I cried and cried because she was just so tired from the illness and treatment that she didn’t talk much at all except to worry and ask me if I was worried. We were together all day, every day while she was home and when she was in the hospital, I spent 14-17 hours a day with her, but it wasn’t enough. When she was stuck there alone at night, she asked for me. When she was on the ventilator in ICU where they wouldn’t let me stay at night, I would find notes that she’d written to the nurses asking them to call me or get me, that she needed me. It broke my heart. We were so close. We were best friends and when I needed her, she was always there. I like to think that when she needed me, I was there for her too.

Rest in peace, Mom. I love you more than I can say.