Death - the door to something better

I've been at the side of a handful of people whom I love, at the time of their passage on to Heaven. My mother has given me many lessons of life that I'll never forget, and one of them is her perspective on death.
My father passed when I was in college. I recall her fear and uncertainty the day he took off on his dirt bike and did not return.  She stayed in our home, as asked by searching friends, family and rescue personnel, to receive him if he came back, though I know every fiber of her wanted to join the search, and she kept saying, "Don't go out there alone, Gail - it's late and dark - I'm worried for you," forever concerned about us, not herself; gathering who she still had close.  I thought at the time that there must be some misunderstanding, and that Dad would be found alive, or that he would walk back in the door with 3 flavors of Haagen-Dazs and say, "What's going on?"
But he didn't.  When my mother was told that one who loved him deeply found him, I don't think I was in the room - much of that day is a blur. But in those that followed, she modeled an attitude entirely unexpected.  Now one might say it was shock, but I've been there since, and no. My mother grieved, certainly, as a woman whose man was so good to her, so perfect for her, unwilling that it should end so soon. But she also has a life force I've only seen in a few people in my lifetime, and a positivity that I pray I carry on as well.
Later, there was my stepfather. Harry came into our lives when I had teens and elementary age children. He related to them lovingly as if he'd been there all our lives.  His eyes lit up when we came to visit.  And he made my mother happy..... and mad ..... and happy again - the two of them were a pair.  We all loved Harry, and were unsurprised when my mother told us she planned to marry him.  A diagnosis of esophogeal cancer preceded the wedding, however, and he lasted only a few more months.  My mother's renewed sense of marital happiness turned to attentive care-taking, and she loved him all the way to Heaven - cooking for him, conversing with him as she always had, with her characteristic energy and love, welcoming anyone from his past who wished to be there, keeping him warm when his body began to lose heat, all those things - everything he needed at what state he was in.
Then my brother, who lived with her at the time: My brother had a companion, his mate, a lovely soul, Brenda. Together, Brenda and my mom cared for him following his diagnosis of cancer - continually responsive to his needs, setting the atmosphere in the house, which was palpable love.
In all these experiences, there was not a whiff of foreboding - sadness, yes,  and acknowledgment of the reality, but not as one who believes they end at death.  My mother knows, and taught me, that the soul lives on, and that death is not the end, but a passage, which in our experiences so far, has been a passage to something more beautiful than anything the earth offers - and even Earth is a Masterpiece. So my mother and Brenda fulfilled his need for an escort - they went with him to the door.
I have experienced 3 similar passings in the past 3 years, and I feel as if, because of my mom, I've been apprenticed.  I respect the experience of death - knowing it is universal, and for myself, I'm unafraid.  Further, death is an opportunity to go ahead of others fearlessly, as I know where I am headed, and that there is nothing to fear - my Savior will meet me, and my brother, and my father, and Pattie, Dick, and Pa.  I'd prefer not to be in a lot of pain, of course, but what will be will be.
But meantime, I've had modeled for me that when the end is apparent, the dying can darn well have what they ask for, be it a salt shaker, a bowl of ice cream or a tenderloin. Or they can eat nothing, if they don't want it, dagnabbit! Don't stand between my loved one and the bag of Taco Bell I bring them. I've made a pact with all my loved ones that I will assist them in rebellion, and I expect them to assist me. I don't mind being the heavy when necessary, and I expect them to rise to the occasion if I need them to.
I've also found that there is an organization that is fully supportive of such a respectful, dignified and permissive approach to death - Hospice.  I've heard people criticize Hospice, but I've also seen their compassion in action at the inevitable end, when without them, a strong-willed loved one would be required, and not everyone has the strength at that time, or has my mother at hand.  I fully support the assistance of Hospice in those circumstances, and I'll not forget what they have done for people I love.
If my decline is slow, I want someone like my mother by my side, and I hope that I am her to others.  I thank you Mom, for your example. How was I blessed, and this is only one way, with such an excellent mother? If I ever whine or complain, someone slap me, and ask me that - give me some perspective. What a gift you are, my Mommo.

Third-Second-Chances

I'd wanted babies from my babyhood.  I was the kid who had so many baby dolls I'd line them up and count them, then forget how many I had, and I'd willingly do it again.  I couldn't part with a one of them.  I had several I was totally devoted to.  As I became an adolescent, my desire was to be married and have real babies.  This outweighed my common sense, my wisdom, and my desire for an education, which my father insisted was important.  I only wanted to be a mom.
I tripped my way into the adult world, and found that you don't know a person until you've gotten past the front they present; that sometimes you lie to yourself about who you are with because you fixate on their qualities that are admirable - everyone has those; that for a time, a person can change, but that you need to know their relaxed off-guard self before you know if you're really compatible.  We weren't.  I tried, again and again, to make myself equal to the task of being his wife.  It was following a time of turmoil, when I came back to try again, that you were begun.
You presented yourself when I was a young, chaotic, traumatized, confused, disheartened, hopeful 22-year-old.  And from your very existence forward, everything changed. Once I knew you were coming, everything aligned.  There was still a new direction to take, to bring you to healthy adulthood, but I began to know my purpose, and who I was, and what my priorities were.
The marriage didn't last much longer after that. It was gut-wrenching to leave, but impossible to stay.  We did everything we could to make it amicable, and suffered the most from the parting when the other was spending time with you.  But I am positive, looking back, that leaving was right - that if I hadn't left on my own power, I would have self-destructed.  I would not have had the strength to raise you with love if I was with him, and your future trumped everything.  Yes, I was selfish to conceive you in that state, but I already revealed that I was confused and chaotic then.  As a very wise person once told me, "Desperate people do desperate things."  As it turned out, you are the best mistake I ever made.
It was you and me in the years that followed.  We had bunk beds in my mom's home. She lovingly, and uncritically took us in, and she and my sister watched you while I realigned my life, coaching gymnastics to provide for us, and re-starting my education by taking a Psychology Through the Lifespan class.  I related everything I was learning to you, and I was fascinated.  I'd take you to class  and to the library with me when I didn't have a sitter and you were so well behaved.  I continued until I got my degree in psychology.
I wish I could say that I made no more mistakes, but that would not be true.  But in my Junior year of college, I met Dan. Again, my life aligned with my dreams and you and I became settled into a family.  Joining with a man with two boys of his own was not easy by any estimation, but oh, it was worth it.  He was totally devoted and focused on the success of our family, and we met any challenges as a team, which gave strength to our family. 
It's been 26 years since our family was joined, 22 years since our Charlie, and then our Sam came and blessed our whole family with a unity we may not have achieved without them; a focus, a shared love.  The meandering path I took in this life brought me you and then Dan, and then two boys and two babies.  Is it not obvious? It was all right - it was ALL right.  Despite that crooked path, I have everything I wanted as a little girl.
The picture is of me holding you on the black sand beach in Hawaii, a beach that no longer exists, covered over later with lava from a subsequent volcanic eruption.  And like that beach, you and I are not what we once were - embroiled in a life of doubt and confusion - but we've realized our first dreams.  The expression on my face of total contentment with you in my arms doesn't reflect the challenges that followed, but the sureness of the path I was on, however indirect.  I, in mine, soon with the man of my dreams and precious family around me, and you with your Jimmie, who blesses us all in so many ways as a positive light, a reliable father, who brings laughter and kindness.  I am so grateful for the life that I've lived, in its totality. I don't focus on the challenges that brought me here - it's God's hand - the blessings and second chances and third-second chances that renewed it and allow me now to look back and know that it's been good....wonderful-good, and that He began with you.