Bye For Now, Evelyn Marie, Bye For Now

by Kevin Burton

   Mom started it. I followed suit right away. We both understood though we never discussed it.

   Somewhere, maybe six or seven years ago, we began ending a phone conversation or one of my visits to her at assisted living or in the nursing home with “bye for now!”

   We’ll talk later, we were saying. We’ll keep in touch. We’re still here together.

   Later I came to realize, as mom got older, lost faculties and abilities, that there would come a time when death would force us apart. There would be a time when I told her bye for now for the last time in this lifetime.

   That time has come.

   My mother died Monday night at 91 (almost 92) years of age. I am heart sick and at the same time thrilled for her to leave a life of pain, for God’s Heaven.

   God blessed us with a long goodbye, as we’ve been discussing end of life matters for years.. But the end when it came, was dizzyingly swift.

   There was a Thursday. We had a normal visit. I got her to eat some cottage cheese. Nothing too much out of the ordinary.

   One thing I will always remember about that day was mom perked up when I arrived. The CNAs that were helping mom said “She’ll do anything for you!”

   Mom said, “He’s my rock!”

   My next visit was Saturday and I should have taken more notice from this. Mom was fading fast, I could see that at some level but it didn’t sink in fully. At the beginning of my visit she drank almost a whole bottle of orange juice in short order. For her, at that stage, that was a lot of juice.

   But by the end of my visit, maybe four hours later, mom barely had the strength/lung capacity to use the straw to drink anymore. And it turned out she wasn’t swallowing the cottage cheese that day. She was just holding it in her mouth.

   By Sunday morning the best nurse at the nursing home noticed mom wasn’t swallowing and called in the hospice nurse immediately.  That nurse went in to do an assessment. She was able to communicate just enough with my mom, that those two chose to put mom on comfort meds only.

   Mom and I had begun to talk about seasons that God sends us through. This was her last season.

   On the day we decided to administer comfort medicine only, I went up to the nursing home for an unscheduled visit, to find a bell choir in the common area, playing hymns. It was absolutely perfect.  What a blessing, a salve for my shattered nerves and I could tell my mother could hear the music and liked it too. We left her door open so she could hear. I could not have asked for a nicer touch.

   Monday I went to visit mom and she was not able to communicate verbally. I could see her trying to rouse herself. Her eyelids fluttered. I told her, “Kevin is here. I love you and it’s OK to go.” My brother Steve had said something similar earlier, before I arrived. It turned out to be the last time I saw her alive.

    I had prayed that God would allow me to be by her side, holding her hand when she passed.  I thought we deserved that moment because we either saw each other or talked by phone all but maybe seven or eight days out of the last six or seven years. It felt and still feels like we should have been together at that moment.

   When my sister passed in 2024 I was with her but went to a nearby bathroom. By the time I came out, which wasn’t very long I promise you, my sister was gone.

   So God didn’t answer my prayer either time.

   There were two hospice nurses on the case. I asked one how long mom had to live and she said she didn’t know. I never asked that question to the other one, a male nurse.

   I wish I had, because later he told me he could tell she might go in a day or two.

   So I left mom at about 4 p.m. Monday. I was shocked, but shouldn’t have been, to get the call after 9 p.m..  No vital signs. Mom was gone. So she died alone in a nursing home.

   I can not tell you how much that hurts me and I hate it.  It’s tough though. Nobody really knows. You could end up with a vigil that lasts two, three weeks. You just don’t know.

   Well here is what I do know! And glory be to God for it.

   Because we both had given our hearts and lives to Jesus Christ and trusted Him as Savior, we had and have the assurance that our present separation which began Monday is indeed just for now.

   People who do not have that blessed assurance – I can’t imagine how they can stand to go through something like this.

   I promised mom I would celebrate her entry into Heaven, but maybe not right away.

   “Oh, I know,” Mom said.

   “A sad day is coming,” she said earlier. That day came Monday.

   But I just learned from my cousin Detra that Mom would use that “bye for now” conversation ender with her as well!

   If you want to borrow it, I don’t mind.