The Rainbow Won't Wait
Lisa V. Proulx
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The Rainbow Won’t Wait
Copyright © 2012 Lisa V. Proulx
Cover Design by Lisa V. Proulx and Steve Barnes
Smashwords Edition
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"The work will wait while you show the child the rainbow but the rainbow won’t wait while you do the work"
Dedications
For my mother Victoria who brought me into this world
My Rottweiler Kurgan who has kept me alive in it
My niece Shelley who not only made my mother’s life a joy but made her passing one of comfort
Steve, my inspiration. Thank you for your constant love, support and understanding. You are truly the wind beneath my wings.
All of our lives we are given advice from our mothers. Some good and we take it, some bad, we ignore it and some just plain silly, and we don't understand it.
Sometimes it takes a lifetime to figure it all out and sometimes we never do. However, I think I have a pretty good grasp on it and so among these pages are just some of the words of wisdom, advice and comfort from my mother Victoria.
My mother was a soft spoken and gentle Southern woman who was part Cherokee and carried with her the patience of a saint. I used to describe her as a summer breeze. My father on the other hand, was a loud and charming French Canadian who although one of my best friends was a thunderstorm compared to her gentle way.
From 2006 to 2010, I suffered more heartache and pain then a human should be allowed to endure. I have found comfort in the advice that my parents left me and with the love of my friends, neighbors and my beloved Rottweiler Kurgan, I have made it through. I have survived.
My parents are no longer on this side of heaven, but their words of love and wisdom still linger with me and I hope will reside inside me for the rest of my life. I am grateful and blessed for having chosen them.
Here are just some of the sage words of advice I was given in my life by my mother...there are many more.
May you find comfort here as well.
I was blessed to be raised by wonderful parents. Parents who saw the good in people and in life. I was raised to be compassionate, kind and loving and I can honestly say that empathy is my greatest strength.
To make a difference in another person's life fills me with a reward like no other. I feel good, as if I am doing what I was put here to do and I would rather hurt myself than to hurt another human being.
I find myself getting sad when I feel that an injustice has been committed against another. Lack of respect for the elderly or disabled. No compassion for the homeless or unemployed. Basic cruelty and unkindness toward another causes me much sadness and makes me strive even harder to be a better person.
When you look at an elderly person, it is easy to see the old skin, the sad eyes and the mental deterioration that some are forced to endure but do you know what I see? I see myself. I see every loved one that I have ever seen age or grow weary and die. I see a person who was once filled with life and love and experiences probably not much different from mine.
The body is the only thing that grows old and withers and dies, the spirit...the soul…is what I see and respond to. I treat others as though I know them and love them already.
I hope that one day when I look back on my life I can be proud. Proud of the way I treated others, blessed by the lives I have touched, thankful for the ones who have touched mine and grateful having had the life at all.
TIMELINE OF PAIN
September 2005...ended an 11 year relationship with B
October 2005...ran into high school sweetheart R/reunited
November 2005...move to Virginia with R/only half hour away from farm
November 2005...Clutch goes out in Jeep on bridge into Virginia during rush hour Friday night traffic
December 2005...my beloved champion Rottweiler Lucy died suddenly
December 2005...noticed something wrong with Ma/jaundiced, dark urine, white stools
January 2006...took Ma to doctor, he is very concerned
January 2006...Ma had CT Scan/found large black mass in abdomen and two spots on liver
January 2006...biopsy performed/Frederick Memorial Hospital
January 2006...plastic stent inserted to hold back the tumor
February 2006...biopsy comes back “unrevealing”
February 2006...another biopsy is performed/University of Maryland Hospital, Baltimore
February 2006...stent breaks from the rapid growth of massive tumor
February 2006...another stent is inserted/this one breaks too
February 2006...metal stent inserted
February 2006...biopsy reveals cancer of the bile duct/Ma given three months to live/I become her full time caretaker/Hospice is called
March 17, 2006...celebrate Ma’s last birthday/mine is day after hers
April 2006...ma goes into coma, lasts about a week/wakes up/cannot speak
April 30, 2006...Ma passes away peacefully in her bedroom surrounded by love
May 2, 2006...Ma cremated
May 5, 2006...Ma’s memorial service at church/brother and his youngest daughter don’t go/R a no show too
May 2006...Pay movers to move furniture from Virginia into farm that I now own/house riddled with problems/needs massive repairs
June 4, 2006 (three weeks after Ma passes away)…R drops me off in driveway of farm, says he’ll be back in an hour…never returns
June 2006...oldest niece graduates high school/I am not invited
July 2006...still no word from R/I am frantic and sick with worry
July 2006...drive to Fredericksburg, Virginia to look for R/found his van at “former” girlfriend’s house/cried all the way home
August 2006...brother and his children whom I helped raise sell property attached to my farm
August 2006...four massive trees fall onto house and do thousands of dollars worth of damage/broke deck in half/lights, windows, and courtyard destroyed
September 2006...roof caves in on one side in family room/floods heavily with each rain
September 2006...talking to B again/wants to try to work things out
September 2006...brother and family gone/new owners of his property tear down Daddy’s barn and my brother’s home/I am devastated and cannot stop crying
September 2006...found snakes in the house/scared to go to sleep
November 4, 2006...found out that B married another woman/thought we were trying to work it out
November 4, 2006...found out R was in town/no call/no explanation/nothing
November 4, 2006...I came undone
Table of Contents
We Are All Dying
You Learn More by Listening Than You Do By Talking
Always Put the Knives Away Before You Go To Bed
Always Drive Behind the Snow Plow
Loving Someone Is Never the Wrong Thing to Do
There Is No Shame in Falling…The Shame Is In Staying There
If You Feel Insane, Do Something Normal
Don’t Cut Off Your Nose to Spite Your Face
Everyone Goes Insane At Least Once A Day
People Who Don’t Have Jobs Don’t Permanents (in their hair)
Everyone Has a Best Friend
Never Take Advice from Someone Until You See What They Have
Don’t Work Yourself out Of a Job
A Man Doesn’t Care What the Plate Looks Like As Long As There Is Food on It
In Love You Want To Be Last Not First
It’s Only Money
If You Eat the Right Foods You Will Never Be Hungry
Be Careful What You Say To Others
The Work Will Wait While You Show the Child the Rainbow but the Rainbow Won’t Wait While You Do the Work
Everything Will Be Okay
"We Are All Dying"
How depressing a thought but in reality how true this is. The moment we are born, we begin to die.
When we speak of someone who is terminally ill and we suggest they make amends with friends and loved ones, why can't we see that in ourselves? We are all terminally ill and we must live life now!
Don't put off telling that person that you love them. Don't wait to marry the love of your life. Have children now and make the family that you always wanted. If you wait until the right time, that time will never come.
My father was a gun dealer and in his shop he had a sign that read, "Enjoy life, it's later than you think." As a kid, I never understood that but isn't that really true? I can remember going to sleep last night and I was 8 years old. How did I wake up and become 45?
My mother used to say that we are all dying. She would sleep with the air condition on in her small bedroom, all year long because she said that we were basically pieces of meat and that we would keep better in the cold.
Funny now that I think of that remark since she hated anything to do with the cold weather. She always said she wanted to die in the Spring and she died on April 30.
I hope she was able to do all the things that she wanted to do before she passed. When I asked her on her deathbed if she had any regrets, she said, "Only one. I should have said yes, when I said no."
Remember that. I am not saying it is always okay to say yes to things. We should turn down drugs, alcohol, and other things that are not right or healthy for us. But how many times did we hesitate to take a chance or take a risk for fear of failing or looking foolish? Live life now and be free!
Although my mother and I butted heads quite frequently over the years as we kept the French and Indian war alive and well in Maryland, I can honestly say now I cannot recall one single time that we had fought. We knew without a shadow of a doubt that we loved each other, we respected each other and we were meant to be mother and daughter. She always said that I had chosen her to be my mother and for that she was eternally grateful.
When a loved one is ill or dying, you will be afraid and it is okay. But don't let the fears overshadow the courage and strength that can be summoned during this time. Cherish every moment with your loved one right here and right now. Please don't wait until they are on their death bed to make amends or to tell them that you love them. Love them now. Apologize now. Forgive them now. Do it now before it is too late. We are all dying. Don't wait until we are in the ground to realize that. Do it now while we are still above it.
My mother got ill in January 2006, got diagnosed with terminal cancer in February and given three months to live. She passed away on April 30. The word cancer itself is terrifying. You hear it and you automatically think death sentence. Although that is not the case for many people it was in hers.
I knew she was scared. But in her own words she said she was not afraid to be dead but was afraid of dying. The pain and mystery surrounding a death is what frightened her the most. We assured her through Hospice that she would be in no pain that we would allow but I felt this was of little comfort to ease her fears.
We had made a pact when I was a child that no matter what, we would tell each other if we were facing a terminal illness. I kept my word and what the doctors knew, I knew, then she knew. No holding back, I told her everything, good, bad and ugly. I wanted her to know, she needed to know and I feel that anyone who keeps something like that from a loved one is doing them quite an injustice. Do not be selfish at this time and think of your needs only. This is not about you. The person who is ill has their own needs as well and this is their time, not yours.
Talk about your feelings. You will surely have them and you may not know where to put them.
You are not burdening others when you discuss them. Suppressing your feelings is a bad way to go and may even cause you to feel even more stress and depression. Believe me; you will need every ounce of energy and strength to carry you through this.
Although I had help from Hospice and my brother's oldest daughter, this process was my mother's and hers alone. You are born alone and you die alone. It is a personal journey and no matter how many people surround you during this time, it is a private moment between the dying and their God.
People get scared when someone they love is dying. Sometimes they are angry and express their emotions with outbursts or harsh words. Others get quiet and reflect on the life that they shared with this person or even on their own mortality. Others show great strength and become a mountain for others to lean on and it is only in their private time alone that they crumble.
Whichever one you choose to be, it is okay. Expressing your feelings is a healthy way to go so open up to someone you trust.
When there is a death looming in the home or the hospital room, life can take on a strange feeling. You know what it going to happen, and you feel that the air around you will never be the same again. It won't be, but it will still be air, so breathe it in and try to maintain as normal a life as possible.
It is also normal to want to overprotect the dying or rescue them. Please do not do this. They are not victims and you will only make them feel like one. Let them be as independent for as long as they can.
When I had to bathe my mother for the first time, I was embarrassed. She was too but she said, "Oh what the hell, we're both female!" and she let me do it. But I wanted her to be able to do it for herself for as long as she could. It was very important to allow her to keep her dignity. It was only near the end that I had to ask for help from a Hospice aid in bathing her. She began to refuse her daily baths and I as her daughter felt compelled to obey my mother's wishes although I knew in my heart they were wrong. Then and only then did I feel justified in asking for help.
My mother seemed to enjoy her daily visits and was actually quite responsive to her. I was glad I gave in and did the right thing.
I was also afraid to take care of someone else, me. I felt guilty for taking a hot bath or eating a good meal. I knew that she could no longer enjoy such luxuries as a bubble bath or a hot dinner; her body was shutting down and not allowing her to eat. I talked to the Hospice nurse many times who told me it was okay to take care of myself; in fact it was vitally important. Go home she said, take a bubble bath, eat a hot dinner, make love to my man and then be refreshed in the morning to take care of her all over again but it was very hard for me to do that without feeling a lot of guilt.
It's like the feeling after a death when you are in mourning. You may see someone laughing and you are angry with them. You may not even know them but how could they laugh when you are so sad? I felt that way too and that is normal as well.
Life is tough enough and we may question everything around us. How can there be cancer in this world? Why are children suffering and starving? Why me? But life is all about changing and evolving. We must adapt and accept in order to survive.
My oldest niece at the time was a fresh faced 17-year-old beauty. She had been my right hand during my mother's illness and for that, I am forever grateful. When her care required more attention and we knew the end was near, we took shifts in caring for her. I was living in Virginia, a half hour away, but stayed at my mother's in Maryland. I slept on the couch in the family room while my niece found comfort in the back room on a mattress to be near our calls if needed. She would go to high school in the morning after waking me and then I would take over until 4:30 when she got off the bus then I would rest or go home to Virginia to check on things and come back that evening.
But as the time grew closer, I never left the Maryland farm.
About a month before my mother crossed over, my niece came to me and told me about her upcoming senior prom. She wanted to go but was afraid that my mother would die that night. I felt her pain but I comforted her by saying that although Grandma was dying, we were not, and we must continue to live our life as normally as possible and not feel guilty for being alive.
What if she did die while she was at the prom? I told her than that it was meant to be but that Grandma would love to see her in her prom gown and the pictures that followed. She would not want our life to stop because hers was about to. She went to the prom, looked beautiful and had a wonderful time. Everything was okay.
When someone you love is facing death it can be an opportunity to reevaluate what is really important in life. I remember one night as her death drew near, I was asleep on the couch when my mother called out to me in a panicked tone. I ran to her side and the look of fear on her face was heartbreaking. She began pulling the oxygen from her nose and was screaming, "I'm dying! I'm dying!" I put my arms around her and tried to comfort her knowing that my arms would not ease her pain or her fear. I said to her, "Are you dying now?" She said, "Yes..." I held her hand and calmly asked her if she had anything she wanted to say. She told me in her loving motherly tone how good a daughter I had been and what a wonderful friend I was to her. We spoke privately for a few more moments then she asked me to get my brother and the girls, his two daughters.
As each one of us went in and out of that room, we knew. I could hear my strong 17-year-old niece literally crumble as my mother told her how she felt about her. None of us were eavesdropping on these private moments but the pain could be felt through the walls of our old pre-civil war farmhouse.
We were losing the one person that loved us all together unconditionally and without judgment. The one person who held us all together was going to be gone soon. How would we survive without her?
That morning she slipped into a coma that was to last a week. I was hoping that she would not wake. I did not want her to die but if that was to be, I did not want her to die in pain. I felt in this deep slumber, in the arms of an angel, she was safe and may be wrapped in comfort and her pain would be a thing of the past. There are no troubles when you slumber only those when you rise. I encouraged everyone who came to see her to continue talking to her as though she were still alert.
She told me once of how her mother lay dying of cancer and was in a coma and no one would speak to her but my mother. As she spoke to her dying mother, a single tear slid down my grandmother's cheek. My mother knew then that she had been heard.
My mother awoke a week later and could not speak. She looked at me with the bluest eyes you have ever seen and I asked her to squeeze my hand. She did, weakly.
My fiancé' was working in Richmond and we were only able to see each other every other weekend. This was tough on me as well. I needed him in every way and I was at my mother's twenty four hours a day and missed him terribly. On the weekend he was home, we had plans to spend some quiet time together and discuss our October wedding. This alone time would fall on the day she died.
I knew that would be the day so my time with him was cut short. Although I loved him and wanted to spend time with him, he reassured me that we had forever to be together. I kept telling him that I felt she was dying that day and he encouraged me to go home to be with her. But a part of me did not want to be in my mother's house that day.
Thinking back now, I feel so selfish. I am so glad he "made" me come home to her. It wasn't that I didn't want to be with her that day but I knew and I guess it scared me. We had been told for the last month that she would not hang on much longer. Therefore, I guess I felt that she would have more time. However, as each hour passed, I could feel the life ebbing away as though it was happening to me and it was really. A part of me was dying too. I told her I had to leave but would be back soon. She mouthed the word, "Why?" I told her not to worry that I would return. I did and I had been home an hour when she passed. My brother and I were with her. The last words I spoke to her were, "Mommy I love you."
She told me to never let anyone say that she had a long life for it wasn’t long enough.
**********
"You Learn More By Listening Then You Do By Talking"
I never knew my grandparents very well and I never met my great grandparents but I have heard the stories of their lives often enough to feel a bond with each one of them. Many times my mother told me the story of her Cherokee grandmother. She knew the exact day that she would die and she called all of her children and grandchildren into the room for a final talk. As my mother entered the room, she was about nine years old and was apprehensive about facing the old dying woman in the bed. Although her grandmother had been a mentor to her, the relationship was now ending on this side of heaven and my mother was heartbroken.
Her grandmother motioned for her to enter the quiet room. They were now alone as each one had taken their turn to speak to her and only those present would know what was said and carry those private words with them for the rest of their lives.
My mother approached her and placed her ear next to her grandmother's mouth. "Listen," was all that she said.
My mother, being a child, was not sure if she had meant to listen up for she was about to speak or to listen for some other reason. But that was the last thing my great-grandmother ever said. She passed away right there in front of my mother.
As she grew into adulthood my mother realized what her grandmother had meant. She meant listen, really listen to others and her advice to me was that you learn more by listening then you do by talking. Try it sometime.
I know it's hard to do and believe me, as someone whom my mother gave the Indian name "Running Mouth" to as a child, I know how hard it is to be quiet. However, you will be amazed at what you hear when you are silent. Let others have their turn for a while. Everyone has something to say and we all want to be heard but wait, you will get your turn. Don't interrupt and let them speak. Just listen.
When my mother lay dying I would sometimes sit by her bedside and listen to her breathe. I knew that at any moment I might be witness to the last breathe she took and I wanted to be there to hear it.
She talked a lot as she was dying and although her mind was at one time clear as a bell, the cancer had robbed her brain of oxygen and at times she was confused. That was hard for me to accept. My mother was supposed to know what day it was and what time it was. She was not to awaken me at three in the morning demanding her coffee thinking it was 9 am. It simply wasn't right. I fought long and hard not to challenge her during those last few months of life. It was my nature though to question, to challenge, and to be right. Ah the arrogance of the French!
Thank goodness she embraced her Cherokee side and was a kind and gentle soul and accepted me for the faulty human that I was.
Toward the end she would stare off into space and focus her attention on the left side of the room. "Who is that man?" she would often ask. A man whom she described as well dressed in a black suit and tie. Knowing no one was there we would turn and look anyway feeling somewhat uneasy for doing so.
My oldest niece asked me once whom she was seeing and if in fact there was a man in her room why she could not see him. I told her not to be afraid that there was indeed a man there but we could not see him for he was not here for us. He was here to help Grandma cross over. She shivered. I told her that one day someone would come for each one of us.
As she lay dying, my mother had a dream of two angels. One was on one side of a door, while the other stood on the outside.
"They came to show me how to die," she said wistfully. "All you have to do is close your eyes and you wake up in another room." I listened intently. "I told them," she continued, "that I wasn't ready yet and they said okay and that they would come back when I was."
Angels coming to earth to show us how to die. The simplest of acts was obviously not so simple. There was a way to die, a method, and they had taken their time to come and show my mother how to do it.
I think most of us walk through darkness for the better part of our lives.
We blindly go and feel our way around thinking that we actually know something. In truth, we know nothing.
There is so much to learn, to know, to hear, that it is impossible for us to really know it all. Before I experienced my losses, I thought I had it all figured out. I knew the answers to it all. In reality, I was just as dumb as the day I was born. I thought I was content in my little world of knowing and thinking I knew when in fact I really wasn't. I hadn't been listening but talking for most of my life and not really hearing what was going on around me.
You think you know where it's at, but is that where you want to be?
I was wrapped in a blanket of false security that did nothing for me, not even keep me warm at night. I really had no clue. It wasn't until I went through hell and back that I came back a different person. My eyes and ears were now open and willing to see and listen. I wanted to make the world a better place instead of just taking up space within it.
I wonder if she had listened to the angels as they spoke softly in her ear. Did they know that she was deaf in her left ear and to speak to her right? I assumed since they were angels they knew those sorts of things but it bothered me anyway.
Did she simply close her blue eyes and wake up in another room? Did they come back to get her when she was ready? Or was the man in the room waiting for her and what was his role in her death?
The body will die when it needs to.
During those final short months, I learned so much from my mother. I think when we are facing our own death, we speak differently as though now what we are saying really means something.
But don't kid yourself. Everything your parent says to you means something. Everything a loved one has to tell you is important. Everything a child has to say has merit.
My mother used to tell me as a child that the reason older people lose their hearing is because no one ever speaks to them anymore. Whether that is true or not, why take that chance? She said that everyone has a story and wants to be heard. So listen.
As tragic and sad as it was to watch her wither and die, it was a blessing to me to be a part of it. She was at my beginning and I was at her ending.
During those months, I really listened to my mother. I not only heard every word she said but every breath she took.
In those last breathes I could hear her strength and determination to live. But as the cancer ravaged her body, her breathing became short and shallow and the morphine could no longer hide her pain. She told me, "I love you, but you cannot make life worth living for me anymore." I understood so I let her go.
I heard her, probably for the first time in my life and I listened, really listened.
I am so glad I did.
**********
"Always Put The Knives Away Before You Go To Bed"
My mother had a fear of someone breaking into our home, seeing a knife on the kitchen counter and doing whatever they had to do to rob us. She was insistent that all the knives were put away neatly in their drawers before we went to bed. Although I understood her fear (to a point) I figured that no robber would be so dumb that he wouldn't know to look in the drawer to find a knife if he needed one. Maybe he brought his own and came prepared for the job at hand.
But think about this. Always put the knives away before you go to bed.
Isn't it a good idea to put your own "knives" away before you sleep?
If you and your husband were fighting during the day, don't carry that over into your bedroom.
Don't go to sleep after yelling at your child and have them fall asleep to the sounds of your anger.
Don't let someone you love go to sleep thinking that you are upset with them.
Put your knives away as well.
My father, although a wonderful man, had the habit of carrying over a fight until the next day. This was very damaging. My mother would constantly say to him, "Phil, let it go! Haven’t you anything current to argue about?”
But for some unknown reason he could not. If he argued with you tonight, he would pick up the argument first thing in the morning. Please don't do this. I know he loved us but what a terrible way to live. If you are that filled with anger, please seek help for it. You will be doing not only yourself a favor but your loved ones as well.
Do you know how often someone argues with a loved one and for some tragic reason that person is killed or dies before they can say they are sorry? Can you imagine the pain and heartache the loved one feels?
Make amends now.
Say you are sorry now.
It doesn't matter who is right or who is wrong. No one wins a fight or an argument, you know that. Be big enough to admit when you are wrong or have made a mistake. Even if you are convinced you are right, what does it really matter? If you love someone let them know every day how you feel about them. Don't ever go to bed angry or let someone you love do the same.
My mother was only weeks away from death. One night as I lay on the couch in the family room that sat next to her bedroom, I heard her call out to me. I ran to her side and she was sitting up in her bed and wanted her morning coffee. I wearily looked at the clock and it read 3:00 am.
Exasperated, I tried to reason with her that it was not time to get up but she had been bedridden for over a month and was disoriented. The morphine that she took for pain did not make her mind any clearer and with my childish arrogance, I challenged her. I actually stood in her room and argued with her that it was not time to get up and she needed to go back to sleep. I spoke to her as though she was a disobedient child.
In her delirium she said, "I will report you to Hospice!" I told her I would give her the phone. While she was at it, she could call the police and have me thrown in jail for not getting her coffee at three in the morning. Maybe then I would get a much needed rest!
Looking back now on this scenario I can smile to myself since I was not equipped or prepared to deal with a dying parent. We never are. They are not supposed to die and leave us.
After a few moments of back and forth nothing, I ran back to my couch and cried. I begged God for forgiveness for yelling at her, a dying woman, my mother, who was not at fault. I should have known better but the stress and lack of sleep had gotten to me and I had snapped. Not too far that I couldn't be reached but I bent just a little.
So, I took a big gulp, swallowed my pride, and went back into her room to apologize. She was smiling at me and said that it was okay and she was sorry too and had forgotten all about it. "May I have my coffee now?" she said.
That was the way it was with us. We understood each other even under the most stressful of times.
When we are faced with a challenge such as caring for a dying parent, we may say things that we don't mean, even lash out at others. Stress has a way of changing you. Although you will feel horribly guilty, as I did, it is normal so try not to beat yourself up over it.
Even though it took a lot for me to apologize to her, I am glad that I had the courage and maturity to do it. At that time, I could not see the big picture as I do now and it was not in my nature to be apologetic, even to her.
I would go through life not caring who I hurt with my harsh words and angry demeanor. I was hell bent on getting my way, the only way, and I didn't care who I had to go through to get it. Of course I loved my mother very much and we did have an understanding but I believe now growing up, I must have been a real handful to her many times over. She always said that boys were easier to raise then girls and maybe she was right.
That morning, after I got her coffee and watched some country music videos with her, she calmly went back to sleep. I no longer cared that it was three in the morning; actual clock time meant nothing at that point. The important thing was that I got to spend a little more time with her. Sleep would come to me later, this was her time.
A while later during the early morning hours right before dawn, I heard her call out for her mother, “Mama, mama…”
This scared me since I knew that our mothers are the first person we see and the last we call out for. I ran to her and her sleepy and painful eyes searched frantically in the room for her mother.
I took her hand and in the softest, calming Kentucky accent that I could muster, I called her a familiar childhood name, her real first name actually, and spoke to her the way her mother would have.
"Honey child, mama's right here. You go on to sleep now and quit that ol' hollerin', you're gonna wake the babies. Everything is okay."
She looked up at me and in her confusion, smiled the sweetest smile and said, "Goodnight Mama, I love you."