Brentt Eads of Line Drive Softball here… be forewarned that I’m going to get personal and share my tender feelings on what is a poignant anniversary for my family.

And, at the end of this article, I’m going to give all of you a homework assignment to do for this week, one in which you’ll really be happy you accomplished…

… but, first, this bit of very recent news that ties in. Really… I promise.

On Friday, I had a medical procedure done called a colonoscopy: which for those who know what it is or, especially for those who’ve had it done, will probably lead to wincing right now.

Let’s just say I had an IV and was put under anesthesia for about an hour… and I’ll let you Google what the rest of it entails (emphasis on the word “tail). The good news is, I won’t have to do it for another 10 years because everything looked clean.

This procedure was uncomfortable but wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be—the IV insertion was probably the worst part.

However, that ordeal by comparison, was a trip to Disneyland when compared to the pain I felt today… and it wasn’t physical.

You see, three years ago today my beloved mother, June Eads, passed away.

It wasn’t a surprise—she had suffered a fall on New Year’s Day 2022, a Saturday, which resulted in a fractured back and bleeding on the brain. Mom went to the hospital by ambulance and it was scary, but when I talked to her the next day she was in surprisingly good spirits and even, oddly I thought, sounded happy.

I believe what was happening is my mom was going through what is called “The Rally” where a person approaching the end of his or her life appears to be fine… even exhilarated.

I talked to Mom by phone on that Sunday, Jan. 2^nd, and I will never forget the conversation:

“Brentt,” she said peacefully and, almost happily, “I love you, but I miss your Dad, my own parents, my brother and my other friends and family who’ve gone before me. I’m at peace and I’m ready to go.”

I was stunned… I wasn’t ready for her to go, but nine days later she did pass away.

I was blessed to be able to be with her along with my two brothers, Greg and Blaine. Mom was moved to a hospice in the last week of her life and I will forever be grateful that I was able to give Mom a gift I know she appreciated in those closing days of her life.

Most don’t know that I’m a musician and my undergrad degree is a Bachelor of Arts in Music. I am a keyboardist, meaning I can play the piano and organ (and played synth in a few rock bands).

That love of music came from my Mom.

I’d be practicing the organ or piano in our living room in Central Ohio when I was a young teenager and she’d come in and say, “Could you play this?” or “Could you play that?”

Born in 1934, her favorite song was “Listen to The Mocking Bird” (click HERE to hear a version of it on YouTube).

Mom would always light up and nothing made me happier than to see my Mom smile or laugh—it was the sound I treasured most in life.

A few days after her fall, however, she called me again with a simple request:

“I need to see you one more time.”

My brothers and I sensed that time was drawing to a close for Mom and all three of her sons made immediate plans to fly back home to Ohio to be with her (I was at that time, as I am today, in Idaho).

When I first saw Mom in her hospice those final days, it made me gasp.

She was in extreme pain after the fall, primarily from a shoulder injury which was causing her more agony than anything

In the last few days, she was mostly unconscious but there were still some precious moments. Because of the bleeding on the brain and the medications she was taking, Mom was, more often than not, not awake or “not there.”

However, when she sensed I entered her room, she opened her eyes and there was a glint of understanding and appreciation and, certainly, a mother’s pure love.

As only she could, my mom grasped my hands in hers and silently put them to her cheek. I had fulfilled her final request—to be with her one more time—and she was showing me how much it meant to her.

Even three years later, tears come to my eyes as I think of that simple but powerful gesture that I will value forever.

A few days later after she woke up for one increasingly rare session, Mom reached for each of us and, bringing us close to her for a hug, simply whispered: “I love you.”

Each day was tough as she noticeably declined, but I had to keep reminding myself that it was what she wanted: to move on and be with her husband and my dad, Jack Eads, who she was with for over 50 years until his passing in 2005.

One of the things I’ll always hold dear to my heart is, that in that last week, I was able to play the piano for Mom one last time as she was wheeled out of her room and into the lobby where the piano was.

The doctor said that, with dying patients, all the senses decline except the sense of hearing, which stays strong through the end.

I got to play some of her favorite songs and hymns—from the Beatles “In My Life” to the spiritual hymn “Abide With Me,” and it was the most poignant concert I’ve ever played—simply because I wanted to make it perfect for my Mom.

I started off with a Beatles song that perfectly summarizes my feelings for my mom: “And I Love Her.” And I finished with one that was a prayer as much as a song: “God Be With You Til We Meet Again.”

It was cathartic for our family to sing to her again and I know it was helpful for her, that she heard and appreciated the music as our final offering of love to her.

My brothers and I were able to be with her at the end, three years ago today, as she took her last mortal breath. On Tuesday, January 11, 2022, at 6:35 pm, Clara June Eads passed away.

So, yes, today is a poignant day and it has admittedly been tough as younger brother Blaine and I have texted back and forth and included pictures from our lives growing up as a family.

And this is where your “important homework” comes in.

Softball players: I want you to go up to your Mom, Dad (or another important adult in your life) and give them a firm and loving hug. I promise you—whether it be for five seconds or five minutes—that embrace will mean the world to those you love.

Parents, siblings, coaches: you do the same—give a loving hug to your beloved son(s) and/or daughter(s) and, best yet, show affection to them in person if possible, but otherwise via phone, text or email if necessary.

Both of my parents are gone now… all I can fall back to is wonderful memories and the occasional photo or video clip.

Today is a tough reminder of what I don’t have anymore, but I wouldn’t trade it for all the wonderful experiences and memories I had growing up with my family… and all they gave to me.

So… everyone reading this: show your love to the special people in your life with a warm embrace and, to top it off, a word or two of appreciation and love. You won’t regret it and, most likely, it will be an expression of love that will likely be one you too will remember forever.

And love you forever, Mom.

Brentt Eads, Line Drive Softball
Email: brentt.eads@linedrivesoftball.com