The mothers we are gifted with in this lifetime are physical incarnations of mother earth. They nurture, teach, and guide us as we grow and interact with the energies thriving in and out of our homes. In most cases, they present us with our first and sometimes only offer of true,uncondtional love. Regardless of how long they’re here to guide us, our mothers leave behind lessons and memories that can be felt for lifetimes. This section of Leuphorique serves as a safe space for those who wish to share their last experiences with their late mothers.
“There were many times when I wanted to open up about my mom’s passing but I felt like people were looking for a certain reaction from me without really listening to what I had to say.
I went home for summer break just like every other college student, but by the end of summer, I was far from ordinary. I noticed my mom’s heavy sleeping as soon as I arrived back in North Carolina. A google search explained that heavy sleeping was a sign of a cancer patient reaching the end of his/her life. I closed the search and went back to scrolling on Twitter. I didn’t want to believe it so I didn’t.
The summer went on and my mother’s health continued to decline. She maintained her friendly demeanor, despite being in constant pain. I watched her become less and less of the mother I knew all along.
I sat with her in the hospital on a warm June night. Too anxious to sleep, I watched her as she slept. My mother lay with no hair. My mother lay with no glow to her skin. She awoke and asked me if there was anything on my mind and I told her ‘no.’ She said she loved me and I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I was awoken by calm, concerned voices. The voices were asking my mother how she planned to spend the end of her life. When she realized I was awake, she demanded that they leave.
As hard as it was for me to muster up the courage to say, I assured my mom that I was comfortable knowing the truth, no matter what it was. I told her that I loved her and that I understood if she couldn’t be on Earth with us anymore. I could tell she was relieved by this and for the next hour we discussed her cremation, her services, and what the future looked like for my then 15-year-old sister. She spoke with a sureness that let me know that her death was something that had been on her mind for a long time. I listened to every word she said. There was so much said in so few words. Then silence.
My mother passed away on July 3rd of 2017. Just three months prior my mom was her usual, energetic self. After meeting my current boyfriend for the first time, she decided that she wanted to take us out dancing. We all dressed up and headed to the venue during my spring break in mid-March. She loved to get all “dolled-up”.
After having a few drinks, my mom, with Stage IV breast cancer, urged us to hit the dance floor with her. It was “go-go” night in Greensboro, North Carolina. The music was bumpin’ and the vibe was euphoric. My mother looked beautiful that night. I watched her as she danced and found a way to socialize with everyone on the dance floor. I’ll always remember her this way.”
– Kabrea Alexis James, Capricorn, 22
“The last days with my mom were bittersweet. Bitter, because I felt different around her. I felt like her days were numbered and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I didn’t want her out of my sight. I had to be under her. I even took pictures of her sitting on the couch because something told me to save every moment with her. My mom hated taking pictures, but she wasn’t bothered when I snapped a picture of her off-guard.
These moments were also sweet, because my last days with her were the happiest days of my life. We would stay up from dusk to dawn just watching movies and laughing. That was something I had never experienced in all of my 17 years with my mother. We didn’t fight or argue. She didn’t annoy me. It was very peaceful and we became extremely close.
A few days before she died, she actually told me that she wanted me to be there for my younger siblings and that she didn’t want to be cremated. She told me that she wanted to be buried beside her sister, who had died eleven years ago, and her parents. I thought it was odd, because we weren’t even talking about her dying.
The day my mom went to the hospital I just knew that visit was different from the others. My mom was on my mind so heavy and all I could think about was the time we had spent together.
Now I realize that my wisdom, strength, morals, and ambition came from my mother. She never spoke about how I could become a better woman. She showed me. She left so many little tokens that I picked up unknowingly and kept treasured in my heart, mind, and soul. And now I apply that same knowledge and wisdom in my everyday life and continue on as a mother/sister figure for my younger siblings. Some day I plan to give my daughter the same tokens of wisdom.”