This is a church directory photo from the late 2000s of my Mother, Ola P. Olson, who died a week after Mother’s Day 2023.
Mother’s Day weekend 2023 created unique and regrettable moments.
One year ago my son, Samuel, and I visited my Mom at the nursing home where she lived. We took her outside for fresh air and visited. My wife, Lynette, and daughter, Olivia, visited at a different time the same day.
It was the last time we saw her. My Mother, Ola P. Olson, died a week after Mother’s Day.
My Mom lived in a senior apartment complex in Bemus Point, NY when she moved from Northeast Ohio in June 2010. She lived with my family beginning in March 2005. When it became obvious a move was coming for me and my family, my Mom wanted to be where it was familiar. She moved back to Western New York state.
She was aging, but managing her senior years all right. I believe my Mother was injured from her covid booster. It gave her a relapse of a sciatic nerve issue she had not battled in years. She landed in nursing care by February 2022–and it was the beginning of the end.
The most significant change I saw in my Mother was her nostalgic stories of the early years of marriage to my Father, Clarence R. Olson. He died in a tragic accident on the farm. Following a snowfall in early December 1969, the barn he was working in had a roof collapse. As my Father, Grandfather, and a cousin were getting cows and horses out of a barn, the roof collapsed, a beam struck my father in a temple, and he died instantly on Dec. 7, 1969. In 6 days he would have turned 35. They were married for just over 5 years.
My Mother never remarried, raising my older brother, Mark, and me by herself. My brother was 4 years old and has many memories of our Dad. I was 21 months old and have no memories of our Dad.
The only thing my Mother wanted to be was a wife and mother. God gave her both. My Dad’s death was a deep hurt. There were many times over the years, especially after my brother and I had grown into adulthood, when I witnessed the raw emotional and spiritual pain from my Father’s death. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice.
In the last six to nine months of her life, every visit with her entailed a walk down memory lane. She confessed that in those moments during an evening when she struggled to sleep, she would gaze at their wedding photo. Where her room was positioned, she was the roommate closest to the hallway. The light from the hallway was just enough to shine on the wall where her wedding photo was located. It triggered countless memories, accounts I had never heard from my Mother in more than 50 years of my life.
My favorite story was a moment when I, likely 18 months or younger, wanted to go to the barn with my father and brother. My dad was concerned about me getting into something where I could hurt myself. My Grandmother Olson quickly responded, “I am more than able to watch my grandson,” and I spent time with Grandma Olson.
This is the grave marker for my Father and Mother at Busti Cemetery in Busti, N.Y. Curt Olson
When my son and I visited my Mother, I had no clue she would deteriorate. Even though it was a Mother’s Day weekend visit, I had no clue how unique the visit and memory would be.
I learned after her death she was put on 100 percent oxygen during the day on Wednesday, May 17, 2023. She had used a breathing machine for years at bedtime. Then on Friday, the 19th, my wife and I took messages from my sister-in-law, who was the nursing home’s initial contact with the family. They were giving my Mother an antibiotic and were going to do tests early the following week. Those tests never happened as she died late Sunday evening.
When my Mom moved to Northeast Ohio in 2005, she had sepsis, and beat it. However, I learned to take control of her health care. These moments required asking specific questions to learn what was happening and what they were doing. When that call came the Friday before she died, I regret not dropping everything to find out what the nursing home was doing to get answers. It may not have altered anything, as we believe she had congestive heart failure. The nursing home would have known we meant business. My wife communicated with my Mother early Saturday afternoon, and she was not herself.
We tried multiple times that evening to communicate with the nurse on duty, to no avail. I regret not doing more.
Perhaps the Holy Spirit nudged me in those last days and I ignored His promptings. Perhaps God the Father was lovingly preparing me and my family for understanding an eternal peace and hope that she’s forever with the Savior, Jesus Christ.
Mark Hanson, my Mom’s pastor at the Jamestown Church of the Nazarene, learned early Monday, May 22, that my Mom died. When we talked to him about the memorial service he relayed the story of his last visit with my Mom. Before Hanson and his wife went out of town for the weekend, he said the Holy Spirit prompted him to see my Mom, going in the day she started 100 percent oxygen.
Additionally, the last two people to see my Mom were from her church. They went in the afternoon, the day she died. The two ladies said when they went in to see her, my Mom immediately asked them to pray with her.
The good news is she wasn’t in pain.
My family and friends have grieved the loss of Mom, Mother-in-law, Grandma, Sister, Aunt, and friend, but my Mother would want people to know followers of Jesus Christ deal with death differently.
Followers of Jesus Christ have a peace and hope that passes any human understanding. This isn’t my Mother’s memorial service, but the death of Ada County, Idaho Sheriff Deputy Tobin Bolter explains that peace and hope.
To God be all the glory!
