A Legacy of Touch

A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.

- Victor Hugo

When I was a little girl I would rise early in the morning, far earlier than my mother desired.  Longing for another hour or two of sleep, she would place me into bed with her.  There my mom would gently caress my face.  With her soft fingers she would tenderly stroke along my brow, down my nose, around my lips and up my cheeks to my brow and begin the cycle again.  Oh, what pure joy!  How quiet I would be as I delighted in my mothers loving touch.  Soon I would be sleeping, cuddled safely in the arms of my mamma.

On November 1, 1996 my 59-year-old mother was diagnosed with 4th stage metastatic lung cancer.  The cancer had metastasized to her bones, affecting her left hip and right shoulder.  Because it was in her shoulder joint she had a great deal of discomfort.  One thing that relieved the pain was when I massaged her head and face.  Over and over again I would gently caress her face in the same way she nurtured me as child; and like me, she would relax and fall asleep.

When my mother was dying, I sat at her bedside and lifted her limp hand to my face.  I moved her soft fingers around my face tracing the old familiar path. It was the last time I felt my  mother’s soft warm touch upon my skin. 

Her touch left an indelible imprint upon my life.

Musical Inspiration:   Her favorite song

"As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; and you will be comforted ..." -   Isaiah 66:13