I sit in tears because I feel such heartbreak, over the past two weeks while helping my mother cling to life. The pain is nonstop and the tears show no regard to what I want. I just cry and cry and cry, Why does my mom have to suffer? I can not understand it. This is a woman who has served selflessly her God for so many years of her life if not all of it. She is a modern day saint in most peoples eyes that know her well. She is a giver not a taker and really only wants to make sure others are cared for. I am trying to understand and I have been very understanding but I can not grasp this one. My mother and I have been through years of surgeries repairing her bones and this is different.
Right now she is fighting for her life and boy is she fighting. I do believe her might was underestimated and she is shining through trying to become well enough after this terrible tragedy and course of events that happened following her surgery on Sept. 3 2019.
We were on a road to gaining a better quality of life with a new shoulder that she needed to scoot her body around the house in her wheelchair. She hasn't been able to walk without extreme pain for several years due to her feet being over pronated, meaning, the ground meets bone instead of heel. She could still get around very well and kept her home of 40 years clean from her wheelchair as well as caring for my aging for my father. She never let the arthritis get her down, ever, even when it attacked her vertebrae and compressed nerves that led to a 2-year long 24-hour a day migraine headache. She was still the church secretary and organist, made the bulletins ,played the offering and Sunday special with a migraine. Never considering most people would rather quit than have to work in such pain, Always searching for answers to help with the suffering but never once stopping to pity herself. She went through three back and neck operations to repair the problem and at some point the headaches were relieved.
Her poor skeleton is covered in this mess and she is used to hurting but her health otherwise was good. We have her checked out whenever she gets above certain pain level tolerances and had done so recently. Clean bill of health. No diseases. No respiratory issues.
That brings me to today looking back on the events of the past few weeks and I sit astonished at what has happened. I have never...
Thinking about her and trying to put together anything that can make sense is driving me mad and I am writing about that in another post but right now I just want to talk about my memory of my mother being a pianist.
Her name is Linda Keaton and she was born in 1943 although I didn't know her then, let's begin with what I know. I will say my first memory is about five years old and it was how I would love to leave my spot in my pew at church on Sunday. My dad was a deacon so he was greeting people and she was the organist so I was kind of free to do what I wanted during a good part of church. I remember being snapped at, or preached at a little louder when I was doing sit ups in my church dress and ruffly socks on the second row but what I really remember is sneaking up to the front of the church while people were filing in for the service that day and I would crawl around to the back of where she sat at the organ and I would sit at the steps and feel the vibrations and soak in the loud tones she was filling the sanctuary with. Sitting at her feet and watching her play the bass pedals with her Sunday shoe slipped off and hearing the organ and knowing the hymns now is a memory I must have known I would cherish even then. My mom would "shoo" me back to my pew. It only took those few minutes to burn into my memory forever a beautiful moment between mother and daughter.
Never has there ever been a time that music wasn't being played in my home. The piano has been a staple throughout my life. I don't even know how to play a piano but I also don't remember when one wasn't being used in the home I lived in. Mom would spend the week at home playing the special for Sunday offering on her baby grand piano my father gave her. This was one of her many gifts she has shared with so many people. This one in particular was probably the most far reaching. Her piano playing was beautiful and soft and never showy. She called herself a hymnast and she is. Music was forever her life and it has been years since she has sat to play. Her tiny little hands are now changed by arthritis and no longer can she endure playing a keyboard.
I do not know if I have one video of my mother playing the organ or piano and I do not like that. I do know it was beautiful and pleasing to the ear. She was always so humble and shy never wanting a spotlight. To a fault and to the point of sacrificing herself so others could have something.
I wish for my mother in her time of this very tough recovery that she can experience some relief from her constant battle. I don't want her to get tired of fighting, this was unexpected for her and it has taken all of us by complete surprise. May she be serenaded by beautiful music while she rests if only by God's covering.
The organ she played sit in my home today and is dusted and cared for as if it were in use and will always be. This is the cornerstone of my family history based in song and praise and assurance