Never Really Gone

It was hard to come to terms with the fact that my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. My family relied heavily on her, our leader. She struggled a couple of years before being hospitalized. My father stayed by her side the entire time she was there. In May of 2003 the cancer became too much of a burden, and she passed away. Our family was traumatized. She was a wonderful person, always smiling and offering her help to strangers in need. She indeed possessed "the aloha spirit". She always put everyone before herself and was concerned for everyone's needs.

I have a close nit family, so we pretty much spent our days off together. During this time, however was hard for us. Everything we did reminded us of our mother. Our home became very dreary and dismal. My father took the loss hard. He loved her dearly. He's a large man, six feet tall three hundred lbs. After her passing he lost weight like crazy, in less than a month dropped twenty lbs, and had an incredibly hard time sleeping. My brother and two sisters were becoming very concerned for his health as well.

One day me and my sisters were off from work, which was rare. Since my brother and his family came up from the Big island for the funeral and support for my father we were all together. We decided to go out and do all the things that mom enjoyed doing on the weekends. Our father decided he would rather stay home alone. We didn't push him because we knew he still needed time to mourn. We actually had a wonderful time together. It felt like our mother was right there with us enjoying what we were doing.

At the end of the day we all headed back home. I drove the family van and the vehicle was stuffed with bodies. We laughed and had a great time reliving what we experienced with mom when she was here. It was the most fun we had together since her passing. As we approached our house we could see that the lights in the living room were on and the television flickered onto the window blinds. I pulled the van into the drive way and the head lights bobbed up and down as we entered the garage. The lights flashed into the open front doorway and as it did I could make out a shadow.

 The shadow was too small to be my father and as the car leveled out I could make out the figure from our beams. At first I could not distinguish who it was. She was a young woman around thirty and she had long dark black hair with a great big grin on her face. As it finally hit me one word escaped my mouth before I jerked the van into park and bolted out to the front door, "Mom." I dashed into the house so fast the figure pulled back from the kitchen door way heading to the living room. My niece came darting into the house as well because she saw her Nana too. As I approached the living room I was surprised to see my father asleep on the couch.

My father looked up at me and said "Hey, babe!" I asked him if he was all alone. He said he was and asked me why. I told him I saw mom, youthful, standing in the doorway smiling as we came home. He told me that he had not felt so at peace as he did, and he was able to actually get some rest. He said it was like mom was home and everything felt like it did before she left. I was just happy to see him finally getting some sleep.

After this visit from our mom the air in our home changed. Everyone seemed to be happier and more at peace. It almost felt at times like mom was going to walk out from her bedroom as we ate dinner or talked about our day. It was such an amazing moment in my life. Being the youngest I was always stuck to her. Everyone in my family called me a mama's boy, but I didn't care.

That small visit from her was enough to satisfy my curiosity of how she is doing in the afterlife. I still miss my mother like crazy and she comes to me in dreams every once in a while, but it wasn't until we saw her that night that gave our family life again. My father also picked up a little weight and began to sleep easier as well. She was always concerned about everyone. I think this was a way for her to care for us even though she isn't with us physically anymore.