A Merry Christmas . . .

. . . and today will be the Christmas I will remember for the rest of my life.

Today, my mother received the greatest gift. She no longer feels the pain of cancer. She no longer needs to suffer from her stroke type symtoms that she's had for over 20 years. No more medications. No more pain patches. No feelings of helplessness nor lack of energy. This morning at 10:10 she received her final and long awaited rest. At the young age of 59. She was able to celebrate Christmas with her Lord.

I am sitting here in her house. Actually, I am in the recliner that I spent many nights these last few weeks by her hospice bed. The bed is now folded and out of the way. There are still meds and equipment sitting around the house. There is still the liquid "food" that we used to pump into her stomack through a tube.

Mom had tongue cancer. A tumor at the base of her tongue. She never touched a cigerett. Never had alcohol that I knew of. But for some reason the cancer decided to show up there making swallowing food and meds impossible.

Death is a funny thing. Well, you know. It has a strange effect on us. We sat here and watched cancer take another victum, slowly but surely. And yet I sit here in this dim room in disbelief. Part of me wants to think she is just in the bathroom or she just stepped out for some shopping. But reality speaks louder. She IS gone. We wished and prayed that her home-going would be soon because of the pain that she was in. But now that the day is here . . . it is hard to believe . . . or accept.

In the empty halls echo her voice. Sometimes the young engergitic voice full of love and joy. Other times the weak, labored one in need but no less fill with love and joy.

I said to my wife this morning, "I have said, 'I love you, mom' so many times in my life. And countless times in the last few weeks. But when I heard that she was gone . . . I wondered if she knew. I wanted to tell her one more time . . . two or three more . . . as many times it took for her to have no doubt that her eldest son loved her." I guess it was this morning that I realized that you can't say those words enough. You can't spend too much time. You can't hug too much. No matter how much I did I wished I could do more. I can rest easy tonight knowing that my mom knew, beyond any shadow of any doubt, that I loved her. But I still would love to tell her again.

Now what! I look at my dad who stuck with mom through the wild journey. I see dreams and plans that now have been altered or cancelled. He is relieved that we are at the end. He is sad. He is tired. He is exhausted. He is lonely. He is lost. He is grateful for family. He is blessed by God's timing and faithfulness. But he is at a loss. He knows what he has to do for the calling hours and funeral. But what then. He has forgotten, I am sure, what real life is like. He's dealt with mom's latest sickness for about 3 years. Recently he was hardly ever able to leave the room let alone the house for any length of time. It doesn't help that he is an "on-the-go" type of person. He always has some project going. Perhaps that will be what keeps him going. His business will sustain him through this loss.

I realize that these thoughts are rambling and scattered. I also realize that these times of typing are mostly for myself. I am not sure of too many people who read this. But I had to write something. To organize some of my thoughts so I don't loose track of any of them. Things are so fresh. Overwhelmingly fresh. Perhaps I should wait it out before I think too much. Who knows. Like I said, death is a funny thing. It brings life into perpective. Slowly but surely. But ever so surely.

So I close in order to sleep. Tommorrow we meet with the funeral director to make final decisions. And then . . . we wait. There is more to say but I just can't find the words. Good night.

Here's to you, mom. I love you very, very much.

Sharon Lucille (Beach) Falke
July 4, 1947-December 25, 2006

She leaves behind a husband, Glen; two sons and their wives, Jeffrey & Amy and Richard and Christine; 5 grandchildren, Caleb, Jessi, Drew, Seth, and Luke. 4 living siblings and one brother in heaven, Nancy, Steve, Brad, Kim, and Robyn, her parents (still living) Richard & S. Lucille; and many, many friends and realitives who love her very, very much!