(Photo by Kevin C. Cox/Getty Images)

This year, the lowly Pitt Panthers will make another return visit to Morgantown.

Although it may sound strange at first, whenever I think of a night game in Morgantown with the Pitt Panthers, I will forever think of Mom, a woman who didn’t even care that much for football.

Please allow me to explain:

In the latter part of 2003, my mom was near death. A diabetic on regular dialysis treatments, she suffered from a bad heart along with a host of other ailments. She was an extremely old woman of a measly 65 years.

Mom spent the last six weeks of her life at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Parkersburg, West Virginia, CAMC in Charleston, West Virginia, and Ohio's Cleveland Clinic. Her final days were spent in The Arbors, a hospice facility in Marietta, Ohio.

The night West Virginia crushed the Virginia Tech Hokies in Morgantown, I didn’t get to use my game tickets because I spent the evening in the Cleveland Clinic, where my mom was having major heart surgery.

The weekend of the Pitt game, I had scheduled a day of vacation on Saturday to take my 13-year-old daughter to the game. That was the one football game she had absolutely insisted on seeing!

On Friday, I received a phone call at work, telling me to hurry over to The Arbors. I don’t even remember which family member called, but they told me to hurry because Mom was bleeding to death. They said she might not make it through the hour.

I left work, rushed over there, and was immediately ushered in to see my mom. That afternoon, she amazed everyone by rallying from her condition. The nurses in the facility couldn’t believe it. One of them whispered to me, “We can’t understand how she’s still alive.”

However, I have often seen people with serious medical conditions rally at the end. It seems that it often happens that way. It’s almost like the Lord mercifully gives them a final chance to make amends or to say their final “goodbyes.”

That evening, Mom called each one of her children and grandchildren individually into the room and spoke to us. I will forever treasure the last words she shared with me that night.

In those last six weeks in the various hospitals and facilities, it was the first time she has spoken a coherent word to me. It was also the first time that I was confident that she knew I was there beside her.

She spoke about my days in college, the struggles I had in completing them, and how hard I worked to finally get that diploma. She told me that she was proud of me.

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