The Gift of Sight

Would you go back if you could? Would you have eyes to see?

It was Friday morning around 8AM where my brother and I found ourselves again in the Kingwood, Texas Kroger getting our morning satellite Starbucks coffee. We’d done this for almost a week every morning before heading the memory care facility where my mother (grandmother) was…well… dying. It should have already happened because she hadn’t eaten in a week and was unconscious. But she was stubborn. And the stubborn in her was wide awake. I remember that day because I’d run off to get and apple. And while I was getting the apple, I heard a song overhead in the store. I know I have the song in my journal somewhere but the lyrics kept repeating I think it’s time to leave now or I think I’m going to leave now….

I ran.

We arrived to witness the joy of Mom’s aid, ecstatic to share with us, “Miss Fleur! She’s awake! She’s awake! Her eyes are open!”

It was what mainstream calls the final rally. Our doctor called it the final gift.

There’s an app which allows you communicate by sending short videos. It’s the app my family used when Mom was dying. For over four years I’ve had videos sitting on this app as a place holder for when we were all trying to figure out how to get through letting your mother and grandmother leave the earth brain cell by brain cell in a memory care facility.

This video app recently sent word that we had a month to download the videos or - poof! They’re gone. And so the clock began to tick.

What would you do?

Would you watch the videos, hundreds of videos, reliving the whole experience? How curious would you be? Or would you just … let go? Let it all go…. They why were you keeping them at all?

I was up at 4:40 this morning… watching the videos on this app. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the video of that day when Mom woke up from her long sleep, her mind completely gone, her weight diminished, her face not the one we knew. It’s a little twisted. A little scary to go back to that particular day.

Understand that we weren’t doing that throughout, recording her demise. No. The videos were a form of communication between the family to keep each other updated on her progress, especially as I was living in New York at the time. We were shocked she was awake (we didn’t know she’s be gone the next afternoon) so my brother wanted to make sure those who hadn’t arrived yet that day would get to see her awake and in present time (as the app allowed you to view the videos live or later when you could get to them).

I thought seeing it all again that would wreck me. Because by now I’d reached the point where the latter days of her passing had mercifully blurred and lost their focus, and the memories of her spritely self and what she really looked like in healthier days had finally reclaimed my memory files.

But I decided to watch.

It kicked my gut in a little, I admit, but it didn’t hurt the way I thought it would. I watched from, I guess the way to say it would be from the “watcher’s” point of view. I wasn’t there. I was here now. I was watching myself watching. Time helps. I saw an elderly woman I had met briefly and loved fully, but didn’t know. That wasn’t her. But it was a miraculous moment in my life, and I wasn’t sorry to be reminded of it one more time. But the woman in the video? I didn’t recognize. That wasn’t Mom.

I continued throughout the day (well it took a few days) going through… slowly going back in time over the months where she’d gone into the home. It hurt. But the pain was overcome by a new memory that was made. Something that happened, that’s still happening, that walked in so quietly, mercifully, and humbly that it wasn’t a memory until I peered back in to see.

The family. The things that we said. The moments where we’d all come together because of Mom; for each other.

When Mom was passing, I wanted her to have an Anointing of the Sick. (It used to be called the Last Rites). So we found a priest in the local parish who performed the rite. (One day I’ll tell you that story). After it was over, I walked “Father John” out the door and thanked him. I told him how special it was and how it brought my family together in a way they hadn’t been with each other before. Sort of how I felt about that silly video app. He told me, “Your mother did that.”

I had to sit with that for a long while. But I think of what Fr. John said when I watch these videos. My mother did that. After a life of all manner of dysfunctions the one thing I can say without blinking is she created a group of siblings who love each other deeply and, at the end of the day, will see each other through all manner of concerns. And I think that was a final gift. She gave us each other. Because in many ways she had robbed us of that while she was living. But when she passed, she let go of us. That doesn’t just happen. I’m sure you’ve heard stories where families fall apart after a parent passes. Mercifully, that did not happen to us. Quite the opposite.

That’s what I saw on the videos.

I think it can be too easy, far too easy, to forget how good the people you love are in the times that are the hardest.

I also think it can be too easy, far too easy, to remember the faults of the people you love in the times that are the hardest.

I watched my mother on so many videos cuddle up under my brother’s arm, so happy to be there; her mind on its way out the door, but so happy to be in nestled by his side. Then, how he made sure we saw her, no matter where we were in the world. And here is where technology gets a round of applause because I was in New York, a basket case, worried about missing all the moments. My family made sure we didn’t miss those moments. (The app made sure too.)

Dang – it’s the Hallmark commercial of the 21^st Century.

But back to those feelings.

Would you want to go back there? If you were offered the chance to see those memories live again? Experience those heart wrenching moments (one of which was that video of her not looking at all like she looked in her life; the day before she passed away…she’d had a “final rally” and awoke in a haze, a fog, but with a magical inexplicable recognition of us, for a few heavenly moments.) Would you want to go back? That was the decision the app presented to us telling us we’d have to pay – forever – to keep those memories or download them all (hundreds – one video at a time) or lose them forever.

And that’s where technology gets a big “Booooooooooo!” (And a Hiss.)

I suppose I should be grateful we were given an opportunity.

So at 4-something AM on a Thursday morning I’m scrolling with trepidation and curiosity through about three years of differing hair lengths.

Then I see her. I watch her. That’s not her. But that’s her life. How she went away. “That’s what happened.” I hadn’t forgotten. It was just filed away.

And then I scrolled back and back and back as she got fuller, healthier, more looking like herself but never quite because we didn’t start that videoing process until she was in the home.

I have downloaded a few, a several few, special videos (careful, they’re all special)… especially the ones where she says my name. Because no one can say your name like your mom can. I am glad to have those. (Even though there’s nothing on his side of heaven that could make me forget what it sounded like to hear her say my name.)

But to be honest I’m wondering if I’ll watch them again. Maybe.

Because I know who she really was (is) and what she really looked like. Those final six months were some dark phantasma.

I thought I wanted to see her and make sure I saw her again… it being about her. This is not untrue.

But I saw us. I saw my family. That was the real deal. I saw how God brought us together. How He worked his love in and through us. I saw the good, the true, the beautiful in all of them. Even in the disastrous moments where we utterly failed as humans. (Okay those weren’t on videos, praise God, but the videos remind you of more moments mercifully not caught on video.)

But isn’t that how God works? He surprises us with love in the most expectedly unexpected places.

A round of applause for God!

I’m glad I jumped down the well of the digital memory banks. I was freshly made aware of what I have now. A family that is good. I was reminded of what we are capable. I saw who we really are and how we take care of each other. I saw how God abided in and used his love within and through us. How He was healing us before we knew we were being healed. And looking back four and a half years now, I see how he had more plans for healing, miraculous plans, we didn’t know were coming.

He leaves no stone unturned. He used death to bring us to life. O death, where is thy sting….

I saw what I have now, today, in this moment. I won’t be a pillar of salt. I won’t live there in the past. Living here, now, is far more worth my attention. But seeing the past through healed eyes is a great gift. The gift of eyes to see.

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The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light, but if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness! (ESV, Mt 6:22-23)

The only source of light for the body is the eye. If you look at people and want to help them, you will be full of light. But if you look at people in a selfish way, you will be full of darkness. And if the only light you have is really darkness, you have the worst kind of darkness.” (Easy to Read version)

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• If You Don’t Talk About This…. (it will still happen… eventually.)