What Shoes Should I Wear?

by Nancy Leeder

My sister called me to say our mother was in the hospital and doing poorly.  Mom wasn’t eating or doing physical therapy.  The doctor told my father that he could put a feeding tube into her stomach so the staff could feed her with liquid nutrients.  The conversation was held at my mother’s bedside. My mother was lucid and angry that the doctor and my father conspired to ignore her wishes and threatened to pull the tube out because she didn’t want a feeding tube.

I flew back East to see my mother in the hospital, and she told me she was tired and wanted to go “home.” So, I told her she had to start eating and go to physical therapy, and the doctors would let her go back home.  She looked me in the eyes, and as she looked up to the hospital room’s ceiling, she said, “No, I want to go home. I don’t want to die in the hospital; I want to die at home.”   I realized what she meant and asked, “Do you mean home to God?’  She said, “Yes.” Then she said, “I want you to tell everyone.”  I asked her, “Do you mean Dad, the doctor, and my siblings?”  She said, “Yes.”  As hard as it was, I told everyone what Mom’s wishes were.

Mom then started eating again and reluctantly did all the physical therapy as asked, then was soon released to go home.  Once she was home, she stopped eating again, and Dad hired Visiting Nurses for several hours a day. My sisters who lived nearby stayed with Mom since my father was having trouble believing “his bride” was nearing death.  Toward the end, Mom was nonverbal and barely taking sips of liquids.

My mother opened her eyes one morning, telling my sister she was excited today.  Mom said, “I don’t know what to wear. What shoes should I wear? ” Since Mom was bedridden and the visiting nurse had given her a bed bath, my sister said, “Mom, you have your new pajamas on, and you had your bath already.”  My mother said, “No, I get to meet Jesus today, and I don’t know what shoes to wear!”  My mother ate some banana pudding and drank some iced tea. Within a few hours, my mother passed away, and my sister felt blessed to have been there until she went “Home” to God so she could be with Jesus.

I was sad that I lived so far away, but I knew that my mother was in good hands with both of my sisters, visiting nurses, and my father with her until she went “Home.”  My mother’s wishes were granted that day; she didn’t die in the hospital.