From the title of this article you might be expecting to read about a tragic accident or a horrific criminal act. Neither of these things occurred. This is simply a story of enduring love. No plant stuff, no crazy question stories or me whining about how hard retail is. 

        April 30th 1971. My dad passed away that day. Pancreatic cancer. My mother was strong. All 5 foot 2 inches and 100 lbs. of her. She finished raising her last 2 children.

        Mom never dated or talked to other men even though she was only 52 when my dad passed. She wasn’t interested in another relationship. 

       In the Fall of 1998 mom was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. Radiation had little effect and she refused chemotherapy. It was just a matter of time. We took another family trip to Vegas. All new it would be the last one.

       My youngest daughter, Sherri, moved in with my mom. She was now my mom’s companion and mom loved the time they spent together. Mom’s symptoms became more serious in March 1999. Breathing was harder and the least bit of effort caused breathlessness. Mom did not want to die in a hospital. We called a hospice for help. They prepared us and my mom as best they could. We asked Sherri to be mom’s caretaker for her final days. She did not hesitate. Sherri is strong just like my mom. She would be there to do the things a nurse should do but with the love and tenderness of a grandchild. She protected my mom’s kids from something that I can’t describe and I won’t try to.

       Before mom completely lost conscienceness she confided to Sherri a secret. Mom was going to meet my dad for a date. She was ready to be with him again. 

       Mom had asked that we keep her sedated so the end was not a pain fest. Sherri did what my mom wanted and my mom was not fully conscious much and could barely breathe. She held on. We could not figure out  how she was doing it. Sherri finally told us of the date she had planned with my father. We now understood. She wanted to die on April 30th. 

      Mom labored to breathe day after day. She was suffering. We whispered to her that it was OK to die. She had our permission.... but she refused. 

      The minute April 30th arrived my sister Pat had arranged for a priest to give my mom the last rites.  Pat then told my mom what the date was. Mom had reached her goal. She passed away about an hour later. She was not early nor late for the date with my dad. Right on time!

        I will meet one brother and my two sisters at the cemetary this and every April 30th. We will clean their headstones and honor our parents.  We will then go to dinner at Amalias and like all good southern Irish we will have a margarita and toast the strength of the human spirit and the love that our parents shared.