And then it was a Friday. I remember the night before praying, “please don’t take my mom during the night”. And He didn’t. It was Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. There are things that I will always remember from those 6 weeks on hospice, and then, there are things I will always want to forget from those 6 weeks on hospice. My mom went through so much agony. So much pain.
But today, I want to fast forward to the morning we buried my mother. It was on a Tuesday. The weather was beautiful. A little chilly but pleasant. The cemetery still had the morning dew and from a short distance I could see the tent with six chairs waiting for our arrival. Driving up, a dog that was standing in the field next to the burial site had caught my attention. I thought maybe a neighbors dog or maybe it had came with the grave diggers. He was a medium-size dog, with black and white markings. We passed him and his wagging tail, and processed on with the service. I sat in between my dad and Cameron, and remember being in a daze. I also remember Father Jude standing over her casket, but i wasn’t paying attention. I kept thinking, “this can’t be real”.
But then, something caught my attention again, that was moving in the corner of my eye. I looked over toward my left shoulder, where Cameron was sitting, and there was the dog. He was sitting besides Cameron wagging his tail. Cameron was petting his furry head, and I swear, I saw that dog smile. Maybe it was my imagination, but i couldn’t help but pet the other side of his ear. Once Cameron and I stopped, that ole’ dog went to my aunt (my moms sister) and sat by her chair. My aunt was really unsure how to take his greeting, but she smiled and gave it a pet, and continued on with the service. I went back in my own little daze and starred at my mothers casket for the last time.
still looking down, I heard Cameron giggle and looked over at him. He pointed toward my dad and there was that ole’ dog. That ole’ dog had perched his front two paws on the top of my dad shoulder. My dad giggled, looked at me, and said, “mom’s telling us it will be okay!”. In a weird way, I believed she was telling us exactly that.
That ole’ dog went to a few more people under the tent that day, but it wasn’t anything like the greeting he had delivered to us. I don’t know what happen that day, but it will forever stick with me. It left me awe-struck in so degree. Weirdly enough, just like that chilly morning passed, so did see that ole’ dog. When I visit the cemetery I never see him. Ever. The memory will, I think, will be a source of hope around my heart, in hoping my mother was actually there with us.
*These pictures were taken by: Jocelyn Phillips Photography
*Location: Grant Tree Farm
*Outfit details: tagged on my Instagram @paradiseroads_
I had originally taken these pictures in late October, and once returning from the Cancer Treatment Center, I had plan to post them in other content. I do believe these pictures of Newnan and I were saved for a special reason to share with you.