Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

There's No Place Like Home

By Vicki L. Kitchner

I have many wonderful and vivid images of my parents from my childhood.

I

can clearly picture them holding hands as they sat in front of the

television,

Mom crying " uncle " through her laughter as Dad tickled her. I remember the

soft

murmur of their voices, with laughter sprinkled in, coming from their

bedroom.

It was their joy and love of one another that set the tone for our home.

I can only recall one bad moment. Literally hours before they were to

leave for a vacation in Hawaii, my mother backed out. Now Dad, who had been

living for the trip was understandably angry. Even now I shudder to think

of

the money he must have lost as a result. Needless to say, they had a few

strained, unhappy weeks. Eventually, they worked it out. The love they

shared

would allow nothing else.

About a year later, Mom was diagnosed with cancer. As the chemotherapy

and

radiation therapies came and went, it became apparent that her cancer was

winning the battle. And it was on a crisp, late fall afternoon that she and

I

sat on the picnic table in our backyard and talked of that trip.

" If I could change anything I've done, I would have gone to Hawaii, "

she

said softly.

" I don't care a bit about seeing Hawaii, Vicki. I don't regret the

trip at

all. What I do regret is the hurt it caused your father. " She sighed and

reached down to pick up our little dog.

" Oh, Vicki, I love my home. If someone gave me the choice of being

anywhere in the entire world, I'd always choose to be here with my family.

I've

never minded having to work. It's just that I was away from home so much

more

than I would have liked. I'm just saying that if I could have done

something

for your dad, it would have been Hawaii. "

Mom had always worked to help Dad provide for my brother, sister and I.

She never complained and my parents always adjusted their hours so that one

of

them was home with us when we needed them. And even if she worked an

all-night

shift, she never went to bed in the morning until we were dressed, fed and

out

the door to the bus. Some mornings her exhaustion was a palpable presence.

But

never did she give in to it until she had seen us off for the day.

As the fight for life wound down, her physicians suggested that we

consider

putting her in a nursing home. Her health had deteriorated to the degree

that

she would require a lot of care. When we explained that it wasn't an

option,

the doctors said they didn't feel we understood what would be involved in

her

care. But it was the doctors who didn't understand.

This woman had devoted her whole life to her family. And as her words

came

back to me: " If someone gave me the choice of being anywhere in the world,

I'd

always choose to be here with my family, " I realized that we had, in

essence,

been presented with just such a choice. Our last gift would be to allow her

to

die in her home with everything she cherished around her.

The holidays were upon us, and we were all painfully aware that this

would

be our last Christmas together. Despite the heavy sadness that hung over

our

home, Dad bought the largest, most beautiful Christmas tree he could find

for

her. He adorned it with ornaments that they had accumulated over the

years -

ornaments her children had made in their first years in school: a bird in a

nest, a circular clay plaque with a tiny handprint in the middle, a

construction

paper wreath with the words, " I love Mom and Dad " in red glitter.

With the fireplace blazing and carols playing softly on the stereo, we

spent a heart-wrenching final Christmas together. Mom sat for hours before

the

tree letting each ornament take her somewhere we couldn't see, each memory

testifying to a life dedicated to her family.

It was in the snowy, early morning hours of a brand-new year, at the

age of

forty-seven, that Mom lost her battle with cancer. She was in her own

bedroom -

with the familiar sounds of her beloved home, with her family and her dog

tucked

familiarly in their beds - that she left us.

But she gave us one last gift as she departed. She stood silently at

the

base of my bed, outlined in a bright, white light. I can remember feeling

tremendous love and even sadness emanating from her as she watched my sister

and

me for the last time. But the woman I saw there was not the emaciated,

disease-

ravaged person I had kissed good-night hours earlier, but the whole, healthy

woman she had been a short year ago.

In making it possible for her to spend her last days in her own home,

my

mother had given us a gift in return. She gave us proof that our souls live

on.

I will never doubt the existence of God, because my mother loved us enough

to

show Him to us on her way to heaven!