This blog is an emotional one for me to write and I almost opted out. But I feel that writing will help me release the sadness of it, embrace the beauty in it and let me move on from it.
My Mom was scared of flying her whole life. She never went on vacation by plane and therefore never made it across the Atlantic Ocean to see me in the United States. She was also afraid of going on a boat. I understood, and flew home to go see her.
Three years ago my Mom’s cancer came back. It was the third time it returned after she had been in remission for nine years. This time it was even more aggressive than before and it turned out it would be a losing fight for my Mom. As her condition declined I kept hoping for a miracle, but the day my Dad called and told me that it was time to book a flight home, I knew that all hope was lost. My Mom’s time to pass on into a different realm had arrived.
So I booked a flight a few days out, I needed some time to organize a dog sitter, clear the trailer out that I rented and tie up all lose ends. I didn’t know how long I would be gone. The day I took off from the island was a spectacular late Summer day, pristine waters, clear blue skies, simply heaven.
I checked in with my Dad along the way and found out that my Mom was failing fast and just hanging on by a thread. I kept sending her love and Reiki and asked her to please hang on until I got home. In hindsight it was such a selfish request of mine.
We were almost through the long flight from Seattle to Frankfurt, when I suddenly started to feel very dizzy. I had been trying to nap and opened my eyes to find out where we are on the in-flight information screen. I looked at the time and it was exactly 11 am local, one more hour to go on the flight. My whole body was now covered in goosebumps, my heart racing. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and saw my Mom, clear as day. She smiled at me and in that moment I knew that she had left her earthly body and had come to say goodbye. The plane had just gained another passenger, an ethereal one. She had finally gotten the courage to fly.
The sensation passed and I started doubting myself. I told myself that I had just imagined the whole thing and that Mom was just fine and I would get home in time to tell her how much I love her. Four hours later I finally arrived in Zurich. I knew my brother was coming to pick me up. When I got out of customs I saw both my siblings wait for me and their faces told me everything. Mom had indeed passed. My sister had been at her bedside when she moved on. I asked my sister what time Mom had died. She answered: “10:55 am”.
I often still feel guilty for not having been there with my Mom. But maybe she did me a favor. I don’t know if I would have been able to bear seeing her like that. Dad told me that she had tried to hold on, but he told her that I would be okay if she can’t. She passed on five minutes later. And she didn’t just leave, she came to fly with me. My Mom and I at my Christening, 1977