EDITOR:
Growing up I never knew how lucky I was to have a mom who cared and loved so much for her children.
My sister, brother and I thought she was very paranoid. We grew up having many boundaries and were always watchful for strangers and danger. But then again, we did live in the Bay area.
Funny how now with our children, we have inherited the same philosophy and traits. Now my child thinks I am paranoid and I tell him I can't help it. I just want him to be safe.
I believe the power was in her hands.
She held us when we were sick. She clapped when we had accomplishments. She hugged when we were loved. She raised her hands when we needed discipline. Her hands raised to God when she needed direction.
How simple it all seems. That just hands can do so much at times when we need it the most.
It was Nov. 19, 2008, a Friday when my Mom called me to ask for my help. She had not been doing well healthwise and was finally ready to go see a doctor, after many attempts to persuade her.
She needed help taking a bath because she had no energy. She was severely dehydrated and malnourished due to her illness.
I happily said finally, yes, I would be there after work. I tried to come as soon as she called, but she wanted to wait for the evening.
Once there, I helped her into the bath and gently cradled her head in my hands to hold it above the water. I washed her hair carefully and I started thinking about when I was a child and she would do the same. I started to cry thinking how much she appreciated my help and how I wish I could have done more.
My mom passed away on Nov. 27, 2008. The day after Thanksgiving. She never made it out of the hospital. But the whole time she was there, I was holding her hand, praying for power to heal her and make her better.
I guess my hand healing wasn't enough or maybe it was. Maybe during the bath she passed her power to me.
Funny though, I look at my own hands and they look just like my Moms.
I miss you Mom every second of the day and cannot wait to see you again.
Gina Doyle
Minden
