Before mom passed away, I virtually watched a friend from another city tell her mom goodbye as well. As Liz spent the final days with her mom, I prayed fervent prayers for her family. I also silently took note, for I knew in my heart that my mom would pass soon too. In her mother’s final weeks, Liz managed to make some very special crafts with her boys and their Grandma. When I saw the pictures on Facebook, I told myself that I would do the same with my mom and my children.
When hospice was called in and mom was sent home, we were operating under the impression of her having weeks left to live. That was the best estimate from the doctors and other experienced medical staff. When mom came home, Liz commented to me about her activities and how special the handprint crafts were for her family, and she advised that I make some too. Although I had already planned to do so, I hadn’t purchased anything to create them. In my time of need, I simply texted two of my friends a picture from Liz and said, “I want to make these, and I need the materials ASAP.” I shared the kiddo’s sizes and I was quickly promised by my friend Helen to have the items the next day.
I had thought that I would have those weeks to make the craft, but mom came home on a Tuesday afternoon and passed very early on a Thursday morning. Weeks were really mere days. Bless Helen, for when she arrived, I had just received the news from the hospice nurse that her opinion was mom had hours to live, “I believe your mom only has hours left and anyone that needs to see her needs to do so fast.” I was shaken. I was not under any impression that mom had years or months to live, but the new of hours took me by surprise and sent me into a bit of a frenzy. Hands unsteady and voice quivering, I beckoned to my cousin, Ann, to go and get my boys from school immediately.
Once the boys arrived, I swiftly began the craft, one that I had thought we would calmly do in a few days, with patience and joy, not urgency and tears. I smeared blue paint all over Momma’s hand as best I could, trying not to get it on her bed sheets or her clothing. She was aware and cooperative but not fully in control of herself, so getting her hand to be just right for pressing on the shirt was a bit difficult.
Mom likely would have died that very night, but with all the hub-bub around her, people coming and going from her home in droves, she sustained a bit longer. In the wee hours of the next morning, mom passed, and dealing with a little craft became the least of my worries. Helen later texted me and asked if we got the craft done like I had hoped, to which I replied, “Yes…and it’s not perfect….yet it is perfect.”
Over the weekend, we managed to finally make the time to finish. I wrote “Grandma holds my heart forever” on each in pencil and the boys each went over the letters with fabric paint markers. They decorated the back however they wished.
Although a tiny thing, it is also simultaneously huge to have these shirts. It is the last thing she ever got to do with my children. I realized while we were finishing them that mom’s hand was small, smaller than mine even, and I can’t remember ever truly noticing that before.
I got overly stressed about trying to make them perfect, cause I realized that having her handprint on these shirts is something I can never get back should we mess them up. I gradually let that go, under the same concepts of it not being perfect but still perfect.
“Grandma hold OUR hearts forever……”
And we are glad to have that be the case, until we see her again.