So I know that I promised I would write more about my sons memories of heaven, but I think it's important to share a little bit about the moments that led up to this. These past 8 months have definitely been some of the most trying intense months of my life. The biggest lesson I have learned out of everything was...letting go. We can't control what happens, and sometimes the situations can be the most horrific life lessons, but we can control how we move on. How we heal, and how we remember.
We all have a story, some of them more traumatic than others, but in the end they are all pieces of us. They connect us. For that I am truly grateful.
It was the moment when I had to say goodbye to my mother when everything came full circle for me. In those three months we all had to say goodbye to our dear friend and mentor Dr. Ottilia Chareka. Her death came as such a shock to us because it happened at the hands of her husband. Truthfully writing this I don't even know where to start because all I can think about is her five beautiful daughters left behind to pick up the pieces. Such strength in the eyes of youth, such reflections of the things she believed in. I feel blessed to even know them.
My mother and father opened their home to the girls, which everyone in the community praised them for. What people didn't understand was, we always saw them as family. Ottilia was family. The three year old Prisca called mom and dad "Nana and Papa" since she was born, so to find the girls and embrace them with love was natural.
My mother was sick before this happened, have just retired on disability 2 months prior. At the same time it was in her nature to take charge, because although she was sick she had a spirit full of fire. Her life became appointments and scheduling, consoling and loving. She loved those girls and I believe that in her mind, they would be with her forever.
The truth was, in all this chaos (which I am not even scrapping the surface of), when the girls came to live with them I felt a strange sense of..relief. I couldn't quite understand it at first but then I realized, for the first time in 6 years the focus was off of me. A pretty morbid thought right? Especially in light of the situation? But mom and I were no different than any other adult mother/daughter relationship. We fought! I was constantly trying to show her how the glass was half full and she was always reminding me that "realistically Cara" the glass was half empty. She had fought so hard to keep me alive, to give me the best quality of life I could live, and when I was living it all she could focus on was what wasn't working. It drove me absolutely bananas!
She begged me to read my book. I wouldn't let her. I couldn't, it was about us and I knew that she viewed me as "Flighty, artistic" and wouldn't take it seriously until it was published. I wanted to show her that all her hard work had paid off and that I would be "Successful."
Then it happened. That moment when all that stupid stuff become so trivial. The moment when you realize that time is so valuable. My mother had a stroke.
Here is my memory of that moment:
I sat at my mother's bedside holding her hand. It was all I able to do. As I watched her cry out in pain. Her leg shooting to the sky, her face paralyzed leaving only a whisper in replace of her voice. I felt helpless.
Was this really happening? My dad had come into my sons room where I was sleeping on the floor only an hour before to tell me it was time. Time to say goodbye.
So many thoughts went through my head. I thought about two nights before, driving up the street and getting the vision. The vision of my mother having a stroke. When I saw it, the emotion took over my body and I had to do everything to control my car. I pulled over to the side of the road. I refused to believe it.
This is usually how I react to my visions. I would often speak out loud trying to bargain with God, "Oh please let that be wrong!" I would plead.
I got the call after a night of dancing with my friend Kyle who was also intuitively blessed. Hanging around with him was the first time I ever met anyone who shared a similar vibe as me. As if I could talk about these visions in a "normal" context.
That night after I shared some of my experiences with him, Kyle changed my whole perspective. "So what?" , he asked after taking a long drink from the beer that was just delivered to our table. "We can't control it. It happens. So what?"
I know this may sound nuts to many of you, but I completely got what he was saying. It was like hearing the Sex and the City phrase, "He's just not that into you," for the first time! Stop over analyzing, what happens happens and we have to just accept that it does. I felt refreshed by his point of view and we understood each other on a level that so many others didn't. That's why I was not surprised that he was there when I got the call.
I hung up the phone, "Holy Shit Kyle it happened! My fucking vision! Why can't I be fucking wrong, Dammit!" I got into my car and drove into town.
So there I was, sitting by her bed in my own vision. She whispered. I leaned in. "Why is this happening?" She mustered. "Please Cara, let me die."
I stared. I couldn't help but remember asking her to do the same thing for me after coming out of my first brain surgery. I understood the pain that made you beg for such things. Observing how the tables were turned I began to see how everything she had ever done to keep me alive, it had prepared me for this moment. "Whatever you choose mom, I support you." I whispered back and kissed her on the cheek while squeezing her hand.
As I looked down at my mother, helpless and scared, I couldn't help but have one regret, "Why didn't I let her read my book?"
That next week while home with Cole, we were in our regular night time routine of bath, book and bed, when he crawled up on my lap looked my in the eye and said, "Mom I'm sad about Ottilia and Nana!" His innocence always melted my heart and I hated at such a young age he always had to deal with so much. I hugged him, "I know honey, it's okay to be sad." As I rocked him he sobbed into my clothes. Then he stopped, "Mommy, why do people always talk about heaven like there is only one? Did you know that their are many different heaven's and they all have different colours?" His demeanor completely changed and he got serious with his description. "No honey, I didn't know that." I responded intrigued.
"We all have to graduate to the other colours, we learn something from each colour. You were in green and I was in blue, but we made our deal in heaven to come here mom to learn and help you graduate to blue with me."
For the next hour Cole sat there on the floor and talked non-stop about his memory of heaven. He told me that we planned this but that even though he remembers it still felt sad.
As I watched him vibrantly share his experience with me I felt blessed. Even though life throws you pain and growth, it's the small moments that make you realize you are part of a bigger plan. As my mother still fights to get out of the hospital seven months later I reflect on her strength in raising me and my brother. I cherish the little moments, let go and continue to move forward!
My next blog will share with you what Cole told me about heaven. Thanks for listening:)
