“Ma, who’s in your heart?” I’d always ask Mom whenever I’d visit or call her up, to check on her condition. Like a trained child, she’d answer, “Jesus.”
Last May, we visited Mom and celebrated Mother’s day with her. That time, she could still sit, talk, eat, and even watch TV.
On May 28, we visited her again. I was crushed seeing her thin-to-the-bones. I hugged her and showered her with kisses and tons of “I love you’s.” She whispered, “I’m dying.” I hushed, pretending to be strong, and then asked if she’d like to go to the hospital. She said yes, and so we took her.
I wept uncontrollably. I wasn’t ready to lose my Mom. So I prayed and begged God to extend her life.
The next day, the doctor insisted that a Nasogastric Tube be inserted to her because of her loss of appetite. My sister was terrified while the procedure was being done. Anxiously, she called us up to go there immediately —we thought that was it.
I asked for prayers and arranged for a priest. Two priests came, prayed over her and gave her the Sacrament of Anointing.
I volunteered to look after Mom that night. Alone with her, I asked my favorite question, “Ma, who’s in your heart?” She mumbled, “Jesus.” I smiled, “Ma, do you still have hurts in your heart?” She shook her head. “Are there people you need to forgive? Lift them up to Jesus now.”
I was so grateful to God that moment. He gave me the chance to care for Mom and, in my little way, prepared her as well.
A week after, Mom miraculously recovered and was discharged that Sunday. I arranged a ‘Welcome Home Thanksgiving’ for her with the whole family. The youngsters prepared song-and-dance numbers that made Mom very happy. Week after week, she was recovering well, or so we thought.
On June 24, Sunday afternoon, I received a text that Mom was rushed to the hospital. We were attending the Feast then. I was deeply disturbed. I wanted to fly to my Mom, but my husband reassured me that all would be fine.
We listened to Bro. Arun’s talk, “God cannot fail,” where he showed a picture of his 75-year old mother. He also asked attendees to hold the hand of their loved ones, for they will not be there forever. I cried profusely, as I could think solely of Mom.
God gave me a hint of what was to come. During the Mass, my sister called up, “Ann, san na kyo? Ni-re-revive na lang Mommy!” I was devastated.
In the car, from Alabang to Pasay, I was wailing mad. After what seemed like eternity, we arrived at the ER and saw Mom still being revived.
I ran to her, embraced her, and told her to fight. Yes, she waited for me —but only for a few seconds, and then she was gone.
My Mom died Resurrection Sunday at age 75. That morning, Mom received Jesus through the Holy Communion. Thereafter, her doctor visited her saying she’s perfectly well.
I realized how faithful God is to our pinky-promise that He will not claim any of us unprepared. I’m amazed at God’s mercy and faithfulness as He prepared Mom well.
Truly, God cannot fail, that I know and believe, because Mom died – with Jesus in her heart!
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