What to say about Mrs. Mobbs, my mother, and my friend?
I have heard that it is the convert in the choir that sings the loudest. My mother grew up in an energetic southern church. Over the course of years, and many diverse locations, she sampled other denominations, always seeking a fit for herself and her family. Later, in a time of crisis, she awakened to a Christ consciousness and a very personal sense of Salvation.
Meme came to faith in a personal way, the way of direct knowledge, of a sudden cascading conversion experience that sustained her and renewed her in all the days of her life to follow. She naturally wanted the rest of us to join her in her new-found faith but those were times before any of us had come to similar junctures in our lives, and we really did not know what to make of her or, at that time, the clarity of the path she had found.
At 17, I could not yet see that she was struggling with life and reaching for hope. That she was struggling to hold fast, deeply engaged in the difficult work of becoming a useful instrument. She was committed to the hard work of fashioning a life that felt right to her, a life we would all be proud of, and of evolving into a person able to see God in all places, circumstances, and people. It was that calm, kind, accepting, and democratic outlook that characterized her; that, along with her humor, empowered her. Without her prayers and prayer chains and intercessions I doubt I would be here to tell these stories. If I have a regret it is that it took me so long to see her as the person she was and to recognize her shining spirit. I am grateful that in these last years I was able to see something of the lanky girl within, and to recognize the awesome, funny person she had cooperated with her Creator to become.
Meme died as she lived: unafraid, and ready for the next chapter. She died at home, slipping away as she said she would: when we least would expect it. The wasting effect of the particular kind of cancer left her too weak to communicate those last few days, and the medication sedated her, even as it made her breathing easier. He family gathered round knowing that her time would soon be here. To give her some privacy we left the room and in the five minutes of private time – which was all my youngest sister, Stephanie was willing to grant her – she gathered and arranged herself, and made her escape.
In her weakened state it must have taken great effort to gather herself as she did. In death, her face held a calm repose, and a particular beauty. Within the face of age I could suddenly see the open face and expectant eyes of the shining beauty my father had fallen in love with. That is the way she left us.
Six weeks before she died she was on a riding mower, cutting the grass. Three weeks after that, bundled against the wind, she went for a ride in my brother-in-law’s jaguar and the next day she left for a weekend in New Hampshire.
Her illness progressed with astonishing speed. Her suffering was mercifully short, yet she still had time enough to feel complete with everyone in her life. Hospice provided wonderful support, incredible support. They provided equipment, nursing care and attention, all the necessary medications, and shared with us their knowledge, experience and round the clock availability.
My four sisters and I are blessed with lives flexible enough that we were able to be with her the last month of her life. This has been a heart-opening experience for all of us. That is, of course, nothing to take for granted. These are times of national strife, family strife, hard deaths, violence, sudden and inconsolable loss. The notion of a “good death” is profound as we acknowledge the comfort and the privilege we were blessed to have in our journey with her. Meme’s having stayed with us as long as she did gave us time to recognize each other as family, to reunite, to work out the difficulties and to celebrate the strengths of this family she and Doc made. We are grateful to her, and for her spirit, which will be with us whenever we gather together but also with each one of us individually in the very personal, sweet knowledge of acceptance and salvation we found in her love.
