These past three years have gone by quickly. Sometimes I still go into Mom’s old room to share a bit of news. “Hey, Mama, guess who just called to say hi?” Of course, I don’t expect a response. The room has been quiet for a long time now. The nebulizer and oxygen machine are long gone. The television, too. But the bed, table, and chairs remain. It was her room for the last four and a half years of her life. I brought her breakfast, lunch, and dinner to that room. I sat with her there and watched bits of TV shows, chatted, and read to her. I painted her toenails, administered her medicine, and checked her blood pressure. Even as I did my best to hold on tightly, I watched her slip away, slowly, slowly, slowly.
This morning I had a conversation with her ashes, as if they were a conduit to the afterlife. I told her how much I miss her and how much I love her. I closed my eyes and remembered what it felt like to be hugged by her. I remembered the way her startlingly blue eyes sparkled every time she smiled at me. I could count on that smile as I set her breakfast tray on the table. “Oh, my!” she would say, “That’s beautiful! But how will I ever eat it all?” But she always did; her appetite was good in the mornings, and so I made sure breakfast was the best meal of the day.
I have honored her last wish to, “just stay close to my little kid,” by creating a special place for her ashes at the cottage. She always called me her angel, but she’s my angel now. My heart hurts today as I remember the pain of letting her go. I am simultaneously sad and joyful. My life is full, and I am so very grateful for having been raised by a mother like her: optimistic, funny, compassionate, and loving. I am grateful, too, for the opportunity to have been there when she needed me and for the grace to lovingly release her when the time came.
Rest in peace, Mama, and know you will live in my heart forever.
Coach Barbie Dallmann 
I remember exactly where I was when you called me with the sad news of your mom’s passing, dear friend. Your remembrance brings tears to my eyes, as I too experienced the challenges, joys and honor of caring for my own parents in their final years. Though it has been 10 years since I lost my mom and 8 for dad, I still miss them. Thank you Barbie, your words fill my heart with love. Your mom was a lucky woman to have you as her daughter.
Can’t believe it’s been three years, but 7th year anniversary of my sister’s passing was last week, mom’s will be in just a few months. Time sure does move quickly. Your post today was so touching and heartfelt. I’m in awe of your compassion and patience … I often get frustrated with my dad with the limited amount of assistance I provide. You definitely were her angel! ~Kathy
Thank you for your touching remembrance of my “Auntie Evelyn”
Barb, this is a lovely post and you’ve honored you mom so well. I know she’s looking down at her little kid and beaming with pride. Sending you much love. xoxo