Remembering Vanessa

Recently, I walked past the room that my mom had occupied at our local skilled nursing care facility during the last year of her life, cancer robbing her of her energy and ability to live alone.  I stood at the doorway for quite a while, recalling my final evening with Mom in that very room. When it appeared that she was in the final stages of her disease and would only live a few more hours, I stayed the night with Mom, trying to get in as many precious last moments with her as possible.  By that point, she was in a deep sleeping state and the time for conversation was gone.  However, I talked to her, reminisced aloud with her, read to her.  The nursing home's staff turned on the television to a cable channel featuring easy-listening music in order to create a soothing environment for Mom's final hours.  In my alone time, I kept praying that my late father would somehow let me know that he was with us, that we weren't alone in this time of such a profound and wrenching goodbye.  I had just about given up that I would receive such a sign when a piece of music began to play on the television, a piece of music that my dad knew I would recognize. "Vanessa," composed by Bernie Wayne, was the signature piece of music on a television show on which my dad appeared for many years.  I had never heard the music played anywhere except in association with that television show nor did I know the name of the piece until I saw it written on the television screen that night with Mom.  Instantly, I was pulled from my grief to an overwhelming sense of peace, for I knew that the mysterious transition from life to death was underway for my mom and I knew deeply that dad was there to comfort us both.