Katie's Journal August 24, 2014 (cont'd)

The man who would sit next to me on the flight asked me if everything was ok. I shook my head no, holding back the tears, I typed on my phone, “My mom is in the hospital dying and I might not make it” and handed him my phone. He read what I wrote, looked me in the eyes, and confidently said, “She knows you are coming” The water faucet turned on full blast, and I sobbed. I will be forever grateful to that man. He brought me some Kleenex and was my voice for the flight attendants.

I continued to text Kurt for as long as I could. He told me all the family was at the hospital and the nurses didn’t expect Mom to live much longer.

The flight was three and a half hours, and those were the longest three and a half hours of my life.

The plane was equipped with in-flight wifi. I sent Kurt a text at 8:10 a.m. Utah time. He responded eleven minutes later and told me she was still holding on and her breathing was very sporadic. At 9:03 he sent a text, “… still holding on,” and  Calli would pick me up.

The plane landed at 10:15. I composed myself enough to get off the plane. To say that I stepped off that plane alone would be a lie. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was escorted off the plane and through the airport. I held back the tears right up until I opened Calli’s van door. The seat was reclined, I sat down, lay back, held my eyes, and tears  flowed. Calli didn’t say a word to me. She started a song:

The song that came through those speakers warmed and comforted my soul. Just as we were exiting the airport, I read a text from Scott sent at 10:17. “Hospice person here. She says that in Mom’s condition and from her experience…she is waiting for you.” With that thought in mind, and the song playing in the background, my sister and I drove down the freeway to the hospital.

The thought that my mother wasn’t going to stay on this earth anymore entered my mind. I battled it for a few minutes, but in my heart I knew she was going home. I knew that she had chosen to go home. Kurt had mentioned a few hours earlier that she was breathing easier and believed her to be sleeping. I know now, during that time of rest she had the opportunity to see the other side. She saw and understood what she would be capable of doing, particularly for her family, from the other side of the veil.

The song “Worn” ended in the background and another one began:

It was another glorious, comforting song, absolutely perfect for the situation. When the song was finished, Calli let me know that on the drive to the airport Mom had told her to play those two songs for me, in that order. And I know that Mom did tell her to play them for me.

I continued to recline in the seat, either looking up at the ceiling or gently closing my eyes. I remember four distinct times when it was almost like someone turned my head a little bit so I would glance out the van window. The first time, I saw a billboard with a picture of a person with both arms in the air looking up toward heaven, and it read, “Believe.” The next glance was at the Sandy Aquarium, the place Mom had mustered up the energy to take me and the boys when I visited in June. The next glance, a billboard that read “help is waiting” and the last glance, once again at a billboard, “I’m ready and waiting…come home”

We arrived at the American Fork Hospital at 11:15. My sister-in-law Alicia met us at the door, and the three of us walked hand in hand to Mom’s room. As we walked in, Kurt led me to the chair that was by the side of the bed. I immediately held Moms hand. It was not scary at all. The room was warm and full of life.

My dad, my siblings, and their spouses were in the room and heard the last words I spoke to my mother. I don’t remember what I said. When I finished, I knew it was time and she was ready. That kind man (angel) that had sat next to me on the flight from Atlanta was right. My mother did wait for me.