Excellent Mother passes away but? Roses Returned by Aussie Nonfiction Writing Contest contest entry

The sun was up and I was still in bed. The phone was ringing. I couldn't make it, so the answering machine picked up the call. It was winter and I wished I had stayed in bed. Suddenly, a tap on my window alerted me to the Manager of the trailer park. She was shouting out that I was needed at the nursing home. That could only mean one thing. Arriving at the nursing home the nurse on duty told me mum had just passed away. Just as I was ready to fill out the paperwork Mum's nurse grabbed me by the wrist. "She was with it right until the end. I put her on the commode and told her I would be back quickly with the oxygen." He grinned. Mum had said to him, "Don't worry, I'm going now." And she did! Still gripping my wrist he pulled me down the corridor towards the Chapel. "What are you doing?" I said, annoyed. "I'll take you to see your mum." Not being able to break his grip, I just had to follow him to the holding room. I was never a stranger to dead people during my nursing days. I felt it a privilege to wash the deceased and prepare them for the morticians. This was different. I didn't want to see mum in death. He opened the door and still gripping my wrist, placed my hand on hers. "See, she's still warm." I couldn't believe this so-called nurse, he was like a child that needed a pat on the head because he thought he was a good little boy. I didn't! Finally, he went away and left me with the body. Mum had turned yellow from the drugs. There was a huge light over her body, I had seen this practice before. Why they put the body under a bright light is beyond my comprehension. Maybe so the Angel can find them? After a short prayer, I left to sort out her clothes and belongings to take home. Still shaking my head over that male idiot. Hoping he didn't do that to grieving folks on a regular basis. Please ask first, said I. I then went to the Funeral Home to make arrangements. Because Mum was an Anglican, my friend and I went looking at the nearest church. Immediately, we both got a big No (mum wouldn't have liked that church) and continued on to the church I attended every Sunday. It was a Catholic Church beside the sea. I loved St Marys and the Priest was such a kind person to all. Fr Pat will never know I wasn't a Catholic, I just loved the church. Finally, arrangements were made for a Mass for Mum. Fr Pat was over six feet tall, he stood at the lectern as he readied himself to farewell my mum. Two sparrows alighted on the coffin. Behind him there was a Rose Window and sparrows nesting in the tall rafters. Whenever Fr Pat spoke, his black cat sat under his long robes. The morning sun hit the Rose Window and shafts of coloured sunshine touched the coffin and a dozen roses we had put there. After the Mass we gathered outside the church in the sunshine. It was winter and bitterly cold. The men taking the hearse asked if I wanted to follow to the crematorium. No, I had said my goodbyes long before. As I lived alone with just my animals, my friend asked me to drive down to Sydney and stay with her for a week. I thought it a good idea and a healing place. I was born in Sydney and moved to Queensland. The next morning we set off for the long drive south. The fog was heavy and we sat and talked as the sun split the fog. Suddenly, the smell of roses filled the car. I asked my friend could she smell them? Yes, she could. The smell was most pungent between me and the steering wheel. It stayed with us for about fifteen minutes. "That was mum!" I said to my friend. "Yes, she is thanking you for honoring her wishes for roses on her coffin." Said my friend. Tears streamed down my cheeks and then I smiled and said, "Thanks Mum." Being a psychic since I was ten years old, the event had no fear for me. I was accustomed to smells from the other side. If my dad was around me, I smelt potatoes cooking, he loved potatoes. Later on when my friend passed, the smell of Vaseline hand cream was strong. She used to sunbake and then cover herself in the cream. And so, the roses were returned to me by mum from the otherside. That made up for the stupid nurse that had really upset me. I don't believe in viewing bodies because their spirit has departed. The body is only their suitcase they used in life. They are not dead, merely sleeping in the arms of the Lord. Author Notes Contest Entry. Mum had asked for roses on her coffin. She gave them back to me after she passed. I believe in love and thankfulness.

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