On August 31, at 5:08 am, my mother, Sarah, lapsed into a coma resulting from a brain stem hemorrhage. Seventeen days later she died, as she had wished, on her own and in her own time.
After returning home from the funeral, I began to try and return some order to our lives. Part of this restoration was to go through a large stack of mail and to clear off the lapsed days from my "Chicken Soup for the Soul" calendar. This calendar was a gift from our daughter last Christmas.
Out of curiosity, I looked at the stories and bits of wisdom on the calendar that correlated with the days of my mother's illness and her death.
On August 26, a story began about an adult who was going through his mother's personal items after her death. The story told a little bit about the author's loved one. On the combined calendar date of August 30/31, the story ended with this poem. I found it such a coincidence, since my mother fell into her fatal coma on the morning of August 31.
I hope all who read this will find some comfort. Again, this is from the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" 1997 Calendar.
When I die, give what is left of me to children.
If you need to cry, cry for your brothers walking beside you.
Put your arms around anyone and give them what you need to give to me.
I want to leave you with something, something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I have known and loved.
And if you cannot live without me, then let me live on in your eyes, your mind and your acts of kindness.
You can love me most by letting hands touch hands and letting go of children that need to be free.
Love does not die, people do.
So when all that is left of me is love...
Give me away...