Mother Flora and the Coming of Age of a New Generation

In 1980 I went back to "school" to become a member of the first class of Permanent Deacons in our Catholic Diocese of Springfield. Ma was so proud. At my ordination on January 15, 1983, she gave me a beautiful, gold brocade, dalmatic and stole. I treasure it still and I'll be buried wearing it. Mother was present for her son's ordination and first Mass. Early in the morning, six weeks later in February 1983, my sister Dolores in a panic-stricken voice called me. She had found mom unconscious on her bed, couldn't get her on the floor to give her CPR, and called the ambulance.

I rushed to the hospital with Father Jim Cronin to have her anointed. I'll never forget my poor modest mother stretched out stark naked on a surgical table with a cadre of doctors trying to restore her breathing. I objected because mom had told me she did not want to live as a vegetable. I was told that by law they had to try once to restore her breathing. They did restore it but she never regained consciousness. That day I squeezed her hand and she squeezed back - then nothing.

When the doctor told me only the lowest part of her brain, the part that controlled breathing was still functioning - that she was really brain dead, as her executor, I ordered the life support to be ended. She lived on several more days and then went peacefully to the Lord.

As her deacon I did her wake service, assisted and preached at her funeral Mass and did the committal wearing her gift, my golden vestments for the first time.

Even in death Ma was special - she had showed me earlier a list of all her possessions and who was to be given each thing. Anything that could be marked like furniture, she had marked on tape the recipient's name and attached it to it. She left a written note of instructions and asked us not to fight over what she left. She got her wish. We all respected it. She also asked that we meet together at least once a year and this we have done in the twenty-five years since her passing.

After my dad had died, ma had wanted to put a monument on our newly acquired family plot in addition to dad's headstone. I told her to hang on to her small savings. I promised her that when she died I'd make sure that she and dad would have the monument she wanted. So, my wife Lida asked her what she'd like to have for a monument. Ma described it and Lida sketched it.

Over her and dad's grave stands an old rugged cross, carved out of granite, and rising from the top of a huge stone. "Rock of Ages" and "The Old Rugged Cross", were her and Grandma Kings' favorite hymns. She also loved roses and dad loved Lilies of the Valley so I had a single rose with Lilies of the Valley carved into the lower front of the Cross.

I, this lucky man had had his first mother until he was more than fifty years old.