February 11, 2025 – “Sweet Little Mama” – by Theresa Arts

Sweet Little Mama
2008
I had taken Mom for her weekly hair appointment on a warm, sunny day in May. Mom considered her stylist, Brigitte, an adopted daughter and Brigitte considered Mom as adopted Mom.
I would read a magazine while Mom was in Brigitte’s loving care for a half hour. When Mom’s appointment was over, she would walk to an area where I could see her waving to me. It was her sign for me that we should be on our way. We would meet each other in the entrance where our coats hung on a rack.

I held Mom’s coat out for her and she looked at me as if something was not right. All of a sudden, she collapsed to the floor. I screamed for Brigitte to call for help. I knelt at her side and as she lay on the floor, I literally saw a “white vapor” rise from her being. I thought, “This must be her soul. Oh my God, I cannot let this happen. She cannot die!” I put my hands on her shoulders and shook her and kept saying, “Mom, Mom!” The vapor disappeared and she opened her eyes in a look of bewilderment. Brigitte helped me move her into the waiting room where she could rest comfortably waiting for medical help to arrive. Mom seemed disoriented and she kept saying, “I want to lie down on the couch.” There were only chairs in the waiting room. In a matter of minutes, the paramedics arrived and quickly began taking her blood pressure, pulse and getting her medical history. Once Mom was stabilized, she was placed in the ambulance and taken to the hospital seven minutes away.

I called my four siblings and John (husband) and we agreed to meet in the emergency room. As we gathered in the waiting room, we were told as soon as the staff got Mom settled, we would be able to see her. It seemed to be an eternity of waiting before we were called to be with Mom.

Mom looked radiant. She shook her head and said, “I feel fine. I don’t feel sick at all.” Many tests were taken and all were negative. The physician informed us they wanted to observe Mom for a couple hours and if nothing unusual occurred, she would be discharged.

There was a moment when Mom and I we alone in her room. As I sat next to Mom, I told her I was really scared at the salon. Mom said, in a whisper, “I am going to tell you something that may sound untrue. I can remember falling to the floor. “I think I know what it is to die. It is nothing to be afraid of because I heard choirs of heavenly, singing voices. The love I felt was unbelievable. Everything I felt was soft and safe. The next thing I remember is looking into your eyes.”

I hugged Mom and cried so hard. I told her about seeing her soul and how selfish I was in trying to get her back. Mom hugged me real tight and reassured me it was not her time to go.

I still can hear her saying, “Now we do not have to fear death! It is glorious!”