From the Archives: 2009

Written by Patsy Mash

My dad, Ross Harless, wasn’t really close to his brothers and sisters growing up. So when he and my mom, Edna, got married, Dad made a vow that his kids would learn to know and love each other. There are ten of us kids, and whenever any of us got into an argument we had to end it by making up and giving each other a hug. We didn’t always like it, but it did make us close to one another.

Mom and Dad had a wonderful marriage that lasted almost 60 years before Dad passed away last January. Every night they would kneel at their bedside and pray before getting into bed. While Dad was dying from leukemia and its complications, Mom had her own health problems. She had diabetes for several years, and just 3 years ago she had bypass surgery. So after Dad died we didn’t know how long Mom would last.

By July, Mom had become very sick. A week before she died she went to the hospital, but her doctor said there was nothing they could do. Her kidneys were shutting down. We brought her home and for a few days she felt pretty good, but by Tuesday evening she could no longer eat or drink or take her medicine. For the next two days, she just lay in bed, unable to acknowledge or recognize us. Hospice was there to help us, and on Friday the Hospice nurse told us she probably wouldn’t make it through the weekend.

Seven of us kids had gathered around Mom’s bed that Friday when, after two days of laying there, unresponsive, all of a sudden Mom sat upright in bed. She looked right past us and said, “Where have you been”? 

She was glowing and had the biggest smile on her face. We all knew she wasn’t talking to us. I don’t guess we will know for sure until we get to heaven, but we all think she was seeing and talking to Dad. Then she lay back down and whispered for a few minutes. We couldn’t understand everything she said, but I remember her whispering the words, “Me, too.” I think maybe she heard Dad say to her, “I love you,” or “I’m glad you are here.” She also whispered the names of her sister, Dorothy, and her brother, Lane, both of whom passed away years ago.

She lay quietly for about 15 minutes and then she sat up again. This time she extended both arms and said, “Come and get me.” She seemed so happy and at peace. Once more she lay back down, her breathing got more and more shallow, and in less than two hours, she was gone.

One of my brothers said, “If you ever had a doubt about heaven, she just put it to rest. There is no doubt in my mind about heaven, now.” Some people might think it is morbid to talk about my mother’s passing being such a peaceful event, but I don’t know how else to describe it. Just knowing that she got to take a look into heaven where, maybe, she saw my dad waiting for her, has given me peace about knowing where they are.

There’s a song that says, “Lord please send your best angels for my mama; I don’t want her to make that journey all alone; would you send the same ones you sent for Daddy; to make sure that my mama makes it home.” When I think about my mom’s passing, I think about the words to that song. When God sent his angels for her, my mama sat up in bed and said, “Come and get me.”