All I Remember

[Guest guest]

All I Remember

One day, while I was lying on a massage table in a dark, quiet room waiting for

an appointment, a wave of longing swept over me. I checked to make sure I was

awake and not dreaming, and I saw that I was as far removed from a dreamy state

as one could possibly be. Each thought I had was like a drop of water disturbing

a still pond, and I marveled at the peacefulness of each passing moment.

Suddenly my mother's face appeared - my mother, as she had been before

Alzheimer's disease had stripped her of her mind, her humanity, and 50 pounds.

Her magnificent silver hair crowned her sweet face. She was so real and so close

I felt I could reach out and touch her. I even smelled the fragrance of Joy, her

favorite perfume. She seemed to be waiting and did not speak. I said, " Oh,

Mother, I'm so sorry that you had to suffer with that horrible disease. " She

tipped her head slightly to one side, as though to acknowledge what I had said

about her suffering. Then she smiled - a beautiful smile - and said very

distinctly, " But all I remember is love. " And she disappeared. I began to

shiver in a room gone suddenly cold, and I knew in my bones that the love we

give and receive is all that matters and is all that is remembered. Suffering

disappears; love remains. Her words are the most important I have ever heard,

and that moment is forever engraved on my heart.

By Bobbie Probstein from Condensed Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by

Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen & Patty Hansen

[Guest guest]

What a wonderful story!! I hope that someday I can feel/see my mother.

When I'm in bed at night praying to her I look around the room. I want to see

her.

I keep looking for her spirit. Sometimes I see shadows & I wonder if it's

just my restlessness. I'm at peace at night & that's when I feel closest to

her.

Someday I hope I can experience what this lady in " Chicken Soup " experienced.

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