Mom's Last Thank You

I was always brought up to say please and thank you as a form of being polite, having manners. Did I always mean the many times I said please, thank you, your welcome, bless you or any of the numerous polite sayings I was taught, not always. I went along as a child saying thank you when someone gave me something whether I wanted it or not. Once one of my grandmother’s gave me a clam. I knew that I would not like the taste of it because I could not stand the stench of it and the smell alone almost made me sick. But, I had to say thank you and I had to try it. I tried it and to my surprise it wasn’t so bad. I closed my eyes and held my nose and almost threw it to the back of my mouth so I wouldn’t taste it much. After I ate it I turned to my grandmother and said thank you again and told her that it wasn’t so bad. She just smiled and patted me on the shoulders and went back into the kitchen. I knew that she was happy that I ventured out and tried new things. That was all the thanks she needed. 

I even said thank you when my aunt brought me a hideous outfit one Christmas. It was a very colorful jumpsuit. I think it had every color in the rainbow and some added colors I didn’t know existed. My mom gave me a look. Even if you don’t like it say those words, thank you. I said the obligatory “Thank You” and only wore it one time to please my mom and my aunt. My mom said that anytime someone gives you something out of love you had to thank them and so that is how I lived my life. I thanked people for things I didn’t want or didn’t need and I thanked them for the stuff I wanted and needed also. I am sure that people in my life did that same thing when I gave them useless things over the years. I was grateful that they seemed grateful.

As the years passed and I got older and the people I loved got older the meaning of thank you and being grateful took on a new meaning. I said thank you more and more and more and more. I didn’t say it sarcastically much and I grew to understand the true meaning of being thankful and grateful. I went through most of my childhood just saying it to be polite because I thought it was the right thing to do. I did it because my mom told me to always be polite, loving and caring to people who showed the same to me. 

On a warm November morning I was sitting in my favorite spot on my favorite chair. Since I was a kid I used to love sitting under the steps at my grandmother’s house. That was a space I called all my own. It was away from the hustle and bustle of everyone. It was a quiet space for me to just sit and be. When I was small, around 4 or 5 I could fit under the steps perfectly. As I grew up and older I could no longer fit my growing body under the steps and sit on the carpeted floor. I missed that. I missed the feeling of peace I felt under the steps. I had to find another quiet spot and I did. This was the first November I had spent in my new rented house which had stairs. I was overjoyed to put my favorite red reclining chair right there under the stairs and I silently said thank you. As I sat there watching a soap opera, my mom’s favorite one, my mom was watching from her hospital bed which now sat in the living room in front of the big TV. I watched her watching her favorite soap stars in action. By now she had lived to be 84 and due to that horrible disease, dementia, it had taken her voice away. She could not speak and only made noises. That became her new language. She did what I called a low growl and that met that everything was fine a higher pitched noise met that she was wet or hungry or both. I learned her new language. I learned to read her eyes when she wanted to express thanks. 

As the day went on and her shows went on I noticed something different about her and the afternoon. She all of a sudden got quiet over there in her hospital bed and instead of looking at the television she started to look up at the sky light over her bed. I didn’t understand at first why this change was happening. I checked on her and held her hand during the day and then I suddenly knew what was happening at that moment. I knew that she was slowly transitioning to the other side, to heaven. I sat by her bedside and held her hand. My sister sat with me and she told her not to go. I knew that nobody was going to stop her from going. She was tired. The look in her eyes told me that. She wanted to be at peace and her peace would not be found on this earth anymore. She never uttered a word for hours. As I held her hand and stroked her salt and pepper grey hair while adjusting her pillows I looked into her eyes which were getting cloudy now and I kept saying to her thank you. I knew she knew what I meant. I wanted her to know that I was thankful she was my mother. I was thankful for the life she gave me and my siblings. I was thankful for all the tunnels that we went through as a family and came out through the light at the end of those dark tunnels. I was thankful that she raised me to be the strong independent woman that I was and thankful for all the sacrifices that she made that I could not see at times. I held her hand until the end, until she took her last breath. I cried at that moment harder than I have done in my life. As I gently closed her eyes for the last time with my shaking hand I truly understood the meaning of saying and meaning those two words, “Thank You.”