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My Mother
by Velma M. Carlson
Whisper softly, Mother’s sleeping.
She was tired, so she said.
You won’t mind, will you, dear?
If I just lie down on the bed?
I brushed her hair, it was so pretty.
And she looked so very sweet;
Placed her slippers near her bedside
So she’d rest her tired feet.
I bent to kiss her, just as always.
Then I stroked her tired brow.
As I left, she sighed so softly,
So I returned to say goodbye.
“You haven’t gone,” she whispered
softly.
“Not yet, Mother,” I replied.
“I just came back to say I love you,
And for another kiss goodbye.”
“I love you too, Dear,” she answered,
“More than you’ll ever know.
But I’m glad you came back, Honey.”
I love to hear her tell me so.
Next day when I came back to see her,
She was sleeping, oh so deep;
Her face was pale, her eyes were closed;
I bent and kissed her on the cheek.
“Mother? Vel is here” I whispered.
“See? I’ve brought you something good.
Mother, can’t you hear me, Dear?”
Somehow I knew she never would.
We sat beside her bed for days, and
They were – Oh, so long...
We knew that God was watching over
Her
And to Him she belonged.
Each day she grew a little weaker.
Each day our hearts a bit more sad;
We knew the angels hovered closer,
And soon she’d go to be with Dad.
Now she’s sleeping – Oh, so sweetly
In His tender care. His love
She has gone to be with Jesus
In the Heavens up above.
She has gone to join the angels.
No more suffering, no more pain;
We shall meet beyond the river.
Where we’ll never part again.
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