Elizabeth Hugo

Driving to church this morning a wave of sadness, all too familiar to me lately, hit my heart. Something about Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter evokes this sadness the most because these were the times we spent with my parents making memories and communing around delicious food. It makes perfect sense, and I’m sure many who have lost loved ones can relate. The passing thought to just skip celebrating and remain in bed under the covers may be more familiar to many people than I ever realized before.

I remember the night my third grandson was born, February 18, 2010, almost 5 years ago. I had been away from home caring for my parents after suddenly hearing the shocking news that my mom was suspected of having pancreatic cancer. My sister had come to my parents home and took over so that I could go home for a couple of days, and while I was home my daughter went into labor. Little did I know that my mom would die 5 days later when I got the call that she was being rushed to the hospital the same night my grandson was born. After taking a quick peek at him, I traveled through the night three hours away to join my sister and Papa at the hospital in Toms River, New Jersey.

I remember waiting for her to come out of the x-ray room when they had finally been able to give her some medication for the pain. She was groggy and began to tell me about a dream. Her mom came to her and said that she was with her. Here my precious 88 year old mom was comforted by her dream believing that her own mom was by her side. There is something about children at any age finding comfort whenever their moms are nearby caring for them during illness. It comforted me knowing that the dream had given her peace.

Today in the car on my way to church this scene was playing out in my mind, and I remembered something else my mom said on her dying bed. She said she was ready and looked forward to seeing her mom and dad and sisters and brothers who had gone on ahead. This reminded me that I too will one day see my parents again, and when the time comes there will be an excitement and anticipation for a reunion of my own. I never even considered that my mom missed her parents or siblings because she was busy creating memories for me and my children.

She too must have had times of sorrow remembering her family who were no longer with her, in addition to living in another country all together. My mom was brave and courageous. She left her home in Italy to come to America where she met my papa to start a new life. She told me how she would cry in her pillow when she first arrived in America to live in a small apartment with her sister and her brother-in-law in the Bronx, New York, missing her home in Italy where she had lived on a big farm. She allowed herself to be sad, but never gave into the temptation to give up and made a beautiful life filled with memories for her family.

I too will follow in her footsteps. The waves of sadness will have to come and then go, because I will be busy making memories for that little one that was born just five days before my mom’s homegoing. She also was comforted when she heard the news of his birth in that hospital bed, and it filled her with joy.  Mom was going to be starting a new life eternal where there is no more sorrow, pain, or sickness, and one day I will join her. Until then, I too will be brave and courageous and fulfill all the life plans predestined for me this side of heaven. My heart is filled with hope. Merry Christmas to my precious parents in heaven.