Lost things 3

Some people talk about 'losing' a loved one when that person dies and the standard comic response is 'how careless'. My mother died just on a year ago. She was 95 and had spent her last 5 years in an aged care facility, mildly confused at times but still able to walk, even run a few steps on her last birthday - to prove she could, and to enjoy reminiscing about times past. Her walking stick assisted her balance but was more often used to brandish menacingly at people or things she disapproved of.
My Mum was a feisty lady. Her father died in an accident on his motor bike before she was born in 1919 and she regretted her whole life the lack of a father. (I wonder whether in the life beyond she has met the father she longed for all her life as well as the Father she loved all her life.)
My father died at the age of 65 leaving my mother a widow at 61. She never looked for another partner believing my Dad could not be replaced or surpassed. She travelled and filled her life with family and service to others, doing driving for the elderly long after she was older than those she drove.
But the time came when she could no longer live alone and the achingly difficult time came to pack her up and place her in aged care where she was well  cared for and eventually content.
I visited regularly and in the last year or so found her increasingly snoozing in bed although she would get up for meals and walk me to the door when I left. Mum's eyesight was dim and her hearing poor. I would sit close beside her and we'd drink coffee and eat biscuits and chocolate - some of the few remaining pleasures. I would rub cream into her hands and do her nails and there would be plenty of hugs. She always knew who I was even though she couldn't see me or hear me well.
And so the end came. Gently and peacefully. Staff alerted me that she wasn't eating well. I had a few days' warning that things were declining. Being three hours away, I waited. The doctor visited and made sure Mum was comfortable but that no interventions were considered. My cousin promised to visit and let me know how things were. She reported that Mum had greeted her and when Beth read from Psalm 121 'I will lift up my eyes to the hills, from whence comes my help?' Mum joined in the familiar words. A few hours later I was alerted to concerns about oxygen levels and not long after I was gently told Mum had died.
Did I regret not being there? No. I believe Mum was a very private person and didn't wish to be surrounded by people waiting for her to die as she'd seen so often in the nursing home.
Many times she had said she was tired and asked the Lord every day to take her home and I would respond by saying that I liked having her around and that perhaps God wasn't ready for her yet. But finally the day came. Did we lose her? No, no, no. John Newton in his famous hymn says "I once was lost but now I'm found.' Mum lost? No. Found, found, found.

PS It was my task to view Mum's body for identification purposes. The funeral people did a lovely job and made it easy. She was dressed in a favourite dress and holding a jumper she had kept for 34 years to remind her of my Dad. I looked, I touched, I blessed the one who mothered me and quietly left. My husband messaged our children.'We went to see Grandma but she had already left.' Yep, gone home...