Third of three parts.

Part I

Part II

My mother died on February 5, 1989, barely 6 weeks after she was admitted to the skilled nursing facility after her hospital discharge.  I called my aunt in New Jersey and  told her she needed to come out.  She reminded me that she was supposed to come in March. I said , " don’t ask me  why I am certain of this, but she won’t BE here in March. You need to come soon.”

At this point my mother’s health was basically unchanged from what it had been for years. But something in her had given up. I just knew.

 My Aunt came on  January 31 , left on the 3^rd   of February, and my mother died on the 5^th. They had said their goodbyes.

Idylwild California

Rock that  Mother's ashes were scattered from

Mother had gone into the SNF on Christmas day, and I had tried my best to bring her things that would make her feel more at home.  She had pictures, her own clothing,  calendar, clock, powder, lotions. I did her laundry, so  there was a big laundry bucket.

When I left the hospital emergency room after she passed, I went to gather her things. I found them already packed.  Everything was neatly in a suitcase, folded and ready to go. There were some dirty clothes in the bucket.  I thanked the aide who was on duty.  She said,  “Oh, don’t thank me,  I  found it this way when I came in.”

 I asked who packed it. She had no idea. No one  did.  My mother was not physically capable, and when would she have done it anyway? And why?  She’d  had a very sudden heart attack. She’d  had no warning. 

I thought.

My mother was cremated. Two weeks later , when I got the ashes back, I took them to Samantha. She said she would “work with the ashes”.  Huh? Ok. It was Sam. I had  no idea what she intended or what to expect.

I walked into her house with the box, which I handed her. She put it on the table next to her and told me to have a seat.  Then—with no other preamble, she  began to laugh.

I said , “what?”.

 She said, “your mother has a very good sense of humor.”

“You’re saying my mother is here. With us??”

 “Yes, she’s here.”

I hope she didn’t see my eyes roll. But I kept quiet.   Play along, Patti.  “So what did she say?”

She said she always told you my gift was a hoax, and now that she knows it isn’t, that it is a shame she had to be two weeks dead before she met me.

Yeah, that sounded like mother. And I had NEVER told Sam  my mother’s opinion of her.  We had never discussed her at all, except for that session when the sock monkey came out.  Even then, I didn’t talk. Sam did.

  Ok, I kept listening.  I asked a few questions..the usual.  How is she;  is she now pain free, blah blah.

Then I had an idea.  “Ask her who packed her stuff, and why.  And WHERE is that expensive bottle of lotion I bought her? It wasn’t in the suitcase.  Did someone steal it? “

Her answer was that she told the nurse’s aide who was on the night before to pack for her. She led her to believe she would be discharged. That person was not on duty  the next day when mother died, but I did talk to her later. She said mother seemed fine, just adamant that her things needed to be packed so that they wouldn’t have to be bothered with the next day.

As to the lotion…mother told Sam  that I should  look in the laundry bucket,  at the bottom,  UNDER the red tablecloth she had put in first. She was afraid it would be stolen.

Sure enough—that’s exactly where it was. I would have never looked there unless I had needed that bucket for something.

At this point, I had no idea what to think. It felt right—all the things  being said were factually right on. But it was a huge stretch for me to go from  the possibility of receiving telepathic  images from my dogs, to the concept of actually communicating with my dead mother.

Finally, it was coming to a close. One more question. “Is she happy?  Has she any regrets?”

Sam said that all she said was that she wished she had loved more, and expressed her feelings more. And then Sam said she saw her with her other children.

WHOA!!! Back up there, miss Samantha!  Other children??  I’m an ONLY  child, Sam.!!

 “ No, you’re not.”

Now..who says this?  Who would challenge someone on a clear fact of their life? A charlatan, a fraud, would backpedal somehow. They would hedge, they would falter, they would do some kind of about turn. Not Sam. She stood her ground.

“Sam, I ought to know whether I’m an o….wait. How many others? How many do you see?”

“It’s hard to see, she said.  Maybe 6 or 7."   ( Who would make THAT up and run it up the flagpole??)

Suddenly I got short of breath.  

No one knew that.

 Certainly not Sam.  

NO one knew my mother had had six miscarriages after my birth. She lost them all at 4 months  due to an incompetent cervix. She almost bled to death.

 All I could choke out, between the chills and the hot flash, was.."you mean they had SOULS?”

Her answer. Not always. But these did.

Putty had been the litmus test for the dogs.  Jocko the monkey served in that role for the Akashic Records. But this..shattered my entire belief system. Or disbelief system. I have an open mind. I am not arrogant enough to think that no life can possibly exist on other planets, that the brain has a capacity to communicate on a level I am not privy to , that...there exists a realm that I have no access to, but that some people might.

But here it was. My mother occasionally mentioned her  miscarriages, but I never had. It just doesn't come up in conversation.  And Sam and I  had no reason to discuss it. Yet she knew.  I'd known Sam a long time. She was NOT devious, she was NOT a con artist. She was not charging me for this; there was nothing in it for her.

I made a choice. I chose to believe her.  It makes no sense to choose not to, considering what I heard that day.

Talk about a leap of faith.