My mom – even up until her second from last day of life – was always concerned about people eating:  “You hungry?  Did you eat? Do you want to take some food home with you?”  Even when she could barely speak, she told me to “take some cookies home.”  A few years ago, as a Christmas present to my family members, I made a bound cookbook of my mom’s recipes called, “In the Kitchen With Millie.”  My idea is to include one of these recipes in each chapter of the book.  I’ll give you all a preview with one of my childhood favorites:  Ketchup Steak!  Though I’m a vegetarian now, I can still taste this.  I loved it!  And it’s just about the easiest thing in the world to make.  Simple Midwestern cooking at its finest.  Enjoy!

Millie’s Ketchup Steak

1 lb. Round or Sirloin Steak
1 Green Pepper (Chopped)
1 Onion (Chopped)
16 oz.  Bottle Of Ketchup

Trim fat from steak and cut into 1/2 by 1/4 inch strips.  Brown meat in oil.  Remove from pan.  Put in 1 green pepper, chopped, and 1 onion, chopped.  Saute, then put meat back in pan.  Add almost full bottle of ketchup.  Cover and cook for about 45 minutes.  If you think it’s too thick, add just a little water.

Serve over egg noodles.

Yummmmm!!!  And the kids love it, too!

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December 22, 2011
Day 12

So I sit, a daughter holding my mother’s hand.  At this point, there aren’t a lot of words being exchanged between the two of us.  At least not verbally.  The words between us are now communicated through our eyes.  Suddenly, this snapshot hits me as a stark reminder that I will never have this moment to share with a daughter of my own.  Who will hold MY hand when I am dying?

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December 22, 2011
Day 12

“My mom just got a visit from John The Mailman. He’s been their mailman for 25 years. In true Millie fashion – though her words are few at this point – she made sure to say to my dad, “Give John his Christmas money.”

John The Mailman, standing at my mom’s bedside in the livingroom, let out a nervous giggle at the suggestion, and shrugged off the envelope when my dad handed it to him. “No, no, no…that’s okay,” insisted John The Mailman.

My mom would have nothing of the rebuff, “You better take it, John, or I’ll haunt you from the other side!”

John The Mailman laughed, tapped my mom’s forehead lovingly with the envelope, then placed it in the top pocket of his sweater.

My mom probably filled this card out in October. She was organized like that. She calls it organized, I call it OCD. I’m certain that her bloodline is what contributed to my own obsessions & compulsions. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…1, 2, 3, 4, 5. But admittedly, I’ve never given my mailman a Christmas Card. Perhaps I should start.

John The Mailman said he had to be on his way. With Christmas three days away, his cart runneth over. “Bundle up,” my mom added as she grabbed his hand for the final time. Through tears, John The Mailman said he would, and left with a pile of Christmas cards in hand to deliver to others having a much different holiday than this little house on the corner would be having this year.”

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December 21, 2011
Day 11

MY MOM: Did someone just come in?
MY SISTER & ME: Why, what do you see?
MOM: The same man who was here earlier. In the suit coat. He looks like a doctor. He’s holding a piece of paper.
US: Is he talking to you?
MOM: No. He’s looking around, just looking around.

This is a real conversation between my mom, my sister and me on Day 11 of my mom’s 14 Day journey. She saw a man standing at the foot of her bed. He was holding a piece of paper – or a clip board – and just looking around our livingroom. Earlier in the day, two men had shown up. They were standing together, again, at the foot of my mom’s bed. They didn’t say anything to her, nor did she talk to them. They just stood there “inspecting” the situation. I don’t know what I believe about the afterlife or Heaven. Prior to this I had a single experience in college with a “spirit” that spooked me for many years to follow. But as I grew older, I became more skeptical. So did my mom. She wasn’t necessarily a religious person, or a believer in ghosts or spirits. So when she started having conversations with “people,” I listened. And listened carefully. I believe that what she saw was real. And I believe that someone came down to escort her to her new world, with her official passport to Heaven in hand.

That said, what are your thoughts on the afterlife? Have you – or any of your family members – had any experiences with people reaching out from the other side in their final hours? I’d like to hear your stories.

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