I went to visit my mother, Georgia, when she was at Barnwelll,
A nursing home in Valatie, New York.
She was sitting in the community room
At a circular card table
With three or four other elderly women.
The women were singing old fashioned songs
And Georgia had a smile on her face and she was singing along.
But as I approached I noticed her eyes were closed,
I don’t believe she opened her eyes for the last couple of weeks of her life.
I noticed she had about a one inch diameter
Strawberry-like scrape on the side of her forehead,
Not looking her best,
I came over to the table and said, “Hi, ma’.
Immediately her countenance perked up like a Christmas tree and she said,
Without opening her eyes.’That’s my son!” like it was the proudest moment of her life,
I’m pretty good when it comes to technicalities about sin,
I’m unfortunately, I guess, a little scrupulous.
I can quote a lot of verses in the Bible,
Practiced yoga and meditation for many years, been here, done that,
Run to confession if I commit a sin,
Given this or that much money to charity,
Fasted many times. Said the Rosary and Divine Mercy Chaplet over and over again,
And on and on,
But I’m sure,
As sure as I am writing this tribute,
That the day Georgia dropped her body and ascended.
God, sitting somewhere in perfect pose
Absorbed in the matters of infinite love
Heard her say, “Hi Jesus!”
And in hearing her voice, perked up like a Christmas tree and said
To the world,
“That’s my daughter!”
Like it was the proudest moment of his life.