Go Beyond

Six years ago this month, my beautiful mother spent her last birthday in the hospital. Little did I realize when she entered the hospital that she would succumb to cancer and never return home. I miss her still. Not a day goes by that I do not think about her and thank God for her influence in my life.

One of the things I miss the most is the sound of my mother’s voice. From the time I left home until she passed away, Mom and I would talk on the phone at least a couple of times a week, even if only for a few minutes. There was something soothing and therapeutic about hearing the sound of her voice. I miss that.

Sadly, my mom lost her voice in the final days of her life. Doctors had put so many tubes down her throat that she was unable to talk. She could barely whisper and was too weak to write, making communication really tough. But I am thankful that she could communicate with her eyes.

In those final days, mom stopped eating and grew progressively weaker. In an effort to motivate her to eat, I told her that I would not take another bite of food until she did. After a couple of days she was able to drink some Ensure. When she finished, she looked at me and, with great effort, breathed out the word “Eat!” I was worried about her and she was worried about me.

After spending several days with mom in the hospital, I had to return to Katy for our youngest daughter’s high school graduation. Before I left I leaned in close, prayed for her, told her that I loved her and kissed her, and promised her that I would return to see her in a few days. That would be the last time I would see her alive. Today I’m thankful that the last time my mom heard the sound of my voice was in prayer for her.

I recently read a report about the therapeutic power of a mother’s voice. One researcher said that a mother’s voice can have the same effect as a hug, even if they’re not standing there. A mother’s voice is indeed good medicine. Perhaps that’s why Mother’s Day is still the day on which the largest volume of telephone calls are made both in the United States and around the world.

For months after my mother died I often found myself reaching for my phone in order to call her. I don’t do that any more, but instead find myself reflecting on conversations we had about family and my travels and just ordinary stuff. I miss those conversations. I miss my mother’s encouragement, her laughter, and even the sound of her tears.

Today, I live with the reality that I will never again hear the sweet sound of her voice on this side of heaven. But I also live with the hope that one day we will be reunited and I will once again hear the sound of her voice welcoming me home.