(December 1974: Charleston, West Virginia)
"I am starting to see why your mother was such a soldier.” Pastor Perry shivered on the bench as he started to feel the cold winter breeze flow past them.
I smiled. I loved recalling my mother’s tales. It had taken her years to become that soldier.
“No matter what she would just keep on keepin’ on,” I replied. I adjusted my coat. It had fallen slightly off of my shoulders. “That was the best thing about her.”
Momma kept a heart of thankfulness and praise for the wonderful ways that God had reminded her of His unwavering presence. She clung to Christ because He was the faithful father, precious Savior, and wonderful friend that she could always count on through each and every storm.
Working became difficult for her as time passed by and her health began to decline. She eventually moved in with Cookie and me though she didn’t like asking for help. We bought her a new puppy in hopes of lifting her spirits: a little black Pomeranian named Ollie, and it seemed to help. A precious gift is what she often called him. I couldn’t wait to give her the sunflower necklace I had placed under the Christmas tree. I hoped she would love it.
“Let me have your cup, and I’ll go pour you some more coffee, dear”, momma said, taking the ceramic coffee mug from my hand.
“Thanks, ma. I can get it myself,” I replied in protest as Ollie jumped up to the side of my seat to bum a piece of bacon.
“Oh, no I don’t mind gettin’ it for you,” she said walking into the kitchen.
I heard a sudden thud and breaking of glass that jolted me from my thoughts. I ran into the kitchen and saw momma lifeless on the floor, the broken coffee cup scattered around her. Cookie came running in from the laundry room, a frantic look spread across her face.
“What’s happened?!” she asked, her voice panicked.
“Call 911! Quick!” I yelled in response. “Come on momma, stay with us. Stay with us.”
I held her until the EMTs arrived. It was at that moment that I could only imagine how helpless she must have felt when holding my sister on that street so many years ago. I could barely answer the questions the paramedics were asking.
We followed the ambulance to the hospital and waited. Cookie and I held each other tightly, unprepared for what was next. I don’t think either of us wanted to know. A doctor made his way toward us as nighttime began to set in.
“Mr. Lemaster?” I’m Dr. Jones.” he began, softly.
“How is my mother?” I asked him, my voice anxious.
“Mr. Lemaster, I’m afraid we’ve done all we can do,” he answered. “I’m the neurologist who assessed your mother. She’s suffered a massive brain aneurysm rupture,” He looked at us sympathetically.
“What?” I replied, shocked.
“The EMT’S wrote down headaches, vision problems, and a stiff neck as some of her previous health issues,” he said. “Is that correct?”
“Well, yes..but,” I found myself stammering in my words.
“Those symptoms lead us to believe that she has had an aneurysm for some time, and it has now burst,” he said, his fingers tapping his clipboard. “We’ve placed her in an induced coma for now, but would suggest that all the family have time to come and say their goodbyes,” he said sadly. “I’m so sorry son, she’s not going to make it.”
Cookie and I drove back to the house as we tried to collect our thoughts. The day had taken a turn in an instant. The hardest moment of all would be facing a world without her. We walked in the front door as I reached for the phone, going down the written list of family contacts that we kept in a kitchen drawer.
Cookie brought over the necklace I had wrapped. A tear escaped my eye as I saw the box in her hand.
“You should take this to her even though she won’t see it,” Cookie said as she set the box on the kitchen table. “We could bury her with it.” Cookie offered, wrapping me in a hug.
“I know she would love it,” I replied, my voice a whisper. “This all happened so fast,” I continued, planting a kiss on Cookie’s cheek. “I don’t know if I can face reality. What are we going to do without her?”
Momma’s life journey was a shining example of God’s faithfulness through it all. The future without the warmth of her presence would find us lost for many years to come. No matter what was facing us, momma reminded us that God is good and worthy of praise for every day. One of the most profound things she shared was that the secret to a joyful life is never measured by how tough you seem. The true essence of it all is allowing His strength to be made perfect in your weakness: choosing to give God the glory through every single moment; to realize that even through those moments of pain, He grace would remain sufficient. Our lives would never be the same, but I knew that I would hold her story in my heart forever.
“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (1 Corinthians 12:9)
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