We all have our ups and downs, good days and bad. The world is filled with peaks and valleys, just like life. As we travel on a road or through time, we experience, and never escape, those every so present undulations.  
With the constant bombardment of negativity on the network airways and in the printed press, you would assume the sky has fallen and the end of the world is near. Are those scare tactics and gloomy methods new? No! It has been that way since man first walked upright. 

For every negative aspect of life, there is a good one. The world is filled with goodness. Where you decide to look is up to you. Do you pay attention to the downers and pessimists, or do you notice what is positive and optimistic. The choice is yours and that choice is the very essence of free will. 
Sometimes we just need a simple reminder to look with fresh eyes, to see the good, and not listen to the bad. One of my favorite Bible verses is Philippians 4:8:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

The apostle Paul, 2000 years ago, challenged the people of that time to seek out and dwell on the positives in their lives and not focus on what is negative. We all need that reminder from time to time because we aren’t perfect and our emotions and thoughts can be easily hijacked by the utterances of others. 

So today, try to refocus your mind and attitude. Take Paul’s advice, and, at least for a little bit, see the good and the bright in life. Leave the negativity to those that are comfortable with, and seem to love and dwell in it, to them for their warped pleasure. Focus instead on what is good, and pure, and right….it is all around you if you only focus, look, and listen. 

Two years ago today, my Mom said her last goodbyes. Her final words were spoken with love, dignity, and seemingly without fear. Somehow, the huge pain I felt was lessened by her bravery and acceptance. Yet, I stood dumbfounded as life slipped from her body.

The week before, I called her from my car on the way to to do a swim. I called my Mom everyday when I could, usually in the morning, to catch up and tell her about my life and adventures and she about her’s. She loved to get up, fix coffee, and sit watching the birds feed as she enjoyed the morning brew. I usually called in the middle of that morning ritual, and she always enjoyed it.

While we were talking she got sick–very nauseous and had to excuse herself. I told her I’d call back in a minute of so. I called and she was still very sick, vomiting and light headed. She said she was going to lay down to see if it went away. I told her I’d call her again after I swam and she said that would be fine.

When I called a little over an hour later, she was still very sick. She was not a complainer, but something didn’t seem right this time. I tried several times to contact my Dad, who was working on a project about an hour away, to have him check on her. Unfortunately, I could not reach him and left messages. I called my sister to let her know and she attempted to call Dad. I had to fly to Manchester England early that afternoon.m and was running out of time.

I was driving to the airport when Dad arrived home and took Mom to her doctor. The doctor had her rushed in an ambulance to the hospital. As I was briefing, my Dad let me know that she was being examined and they thought things would be alright and that I should fly my trip.

When I got to Manchester England, I learned that Mom had suffered a heart attack and was admitted to the ICU. Over the past year or so, she had complained of heartburn and tightness in her chest. The doctors missed the obvious, and diagnosed lung problems, and had her gall bladder removed– the problem was her heart all along. Hearing of her condition, I felt helpless and alone. I didn’t want to be in England at that moment, nor did I want to be around strangers that I barely knew doing things I didn’t feel like doing; I wanted to be home with her and Dad. I had to wait until the next day to fly back to the States.

When I arrived in Atlanta, I repacked and then drove up to Asheville and immediately went to the hospital to see her. She was conscious and, as always, glad to see me. But, she looked so frail and little and didn’t have the enormous energy she usually had. I knew something was very wrong.

We learned that she had suffered a massive heart attack from complete blockage of her left anterior descending artery– the widow maker in common usage. But her innate physical strength prevented it from taking her despite 60% destruction of her heart tissue. She was not going to recover, and if she did, she would never be the same.

My sisters were called and my son, her only grandchild, arrived to be with her. Hard decisions were made, and the palliative doctors did their magic. She was able to say goodbye to each of us, although deep down, she was fighting to stay alive and return to her home. She still had things she wanted to accomplish.

At 1:44 p.m. on June 4th, she took her last breath. Cindy, Kim, Sam and I were standing around her bed. Dad was holding her hand. I looked at my Mom and knew her earthly journey was done and her new life had begun. Then I looked at my Dad.

My Dad and Mom had been married for 61 years– they were best friends. They grew up together and never thought they would marry each other. But they did and had so many adventures with great ups and downs. Their love was deep and true. As Mom passed away, I saw a little of life leave my Dad at that moment as well; his hurt and pain was obvious. He cried and was in disbelief, a state in which I hardly ever saw him. Seeing him, my sisters, and my son hurting so much pounded my very core.

It was if part of me left the room and would never be back. She was a great Mom that taught me how to live. She instilled in me the power of fight, to never give up. She pushed me to try new things and not be afraid. She showed me that I was as good as anyone else, yet owed it to others to help them out. She opened my eyes to beauty, art, and music. She felt strongly about being spontaneous and feeling the joy of living through my senses. She loved people, cared deeply, yet didn’t take lip from anyone. She loved her big and extended family deeply. The list of traits she past to me is long and meaningful. And she still had more, I am sure, she wanted to teach and share.

In the end, some of her final words were, “It came so fast.” It did. We never expected it to end like that. None of us know how or when it will end. But it will end. My Mom lived a full life with meaning and fought the good fight. She died peacefully and with faith that she would be stepping into a new and glorious world promised to her as a Christian. She was beautiful in life and death. Her lessons will remain with me as long as I live and breathe. She wouldn’t want it any other way.