My MOM
My Mom died
yesterday. I always knew it would happen one day. As I did her laundry every
weekend I always said that I didn't mind. That when I didn't have her laundry
to do, it would be because she was no longer with us. Sometimes when I felt overwhelmed
with managing all of my priorities (kids, grandchildren, family stuff,
marriage, Mom's care, work) I would think, 'Careful. One day your Mom won't be
here and your grandchildren won't want to hang out with you".
My Mom died yesterday. I always knew it would happen one day but one day isn't
now. It isn't soon, it's - one day. I don't like now. When the hospital called
Sunday morning at 5:00 a.m. to say Mom had taken a turn for the worse, I woke
my brother, called my sister, and made it to the hospital by 5:30. No easy task
given the distance to the hospital. Let's just say I drove, quickly. I prayed
for the opportunity to be there for her. Not after, but before and during. I
don't like after, that happened when my Dad died.
My Mom died yesterday. I was at the hospital almost every day that she was
there and she experienced a myriad of emotion, pain, endurance, and courage and
along with her, I experienced all of it. Under the influence of pain and
narcotics she was angry (she was going to die and I didn't care), sad (it is
too much), calm (it will all be okay), irritated (your shoes (clip clop) drive
me crazy), honest (why is your hair always so scraggly when 'theirs' is always
so nice) to motherly (patting my hand, tucking my hair behind my ears). And
through it all, she persevered. She is the strongest woman I know and yet
something most people don't realize is that she fought every day for her place
in this world. She was often insecure and self-deprecating without the humour.
As she aged, her childhood memories of never being good enough came back to
haunt her. She was both the matriarch of the family and the child of her
memories. She ached for the days when she could dance and run and she fought
hard against those who insisted on taking away her independence.
My Mom died yesterday. I entered the room at 5:30 and I stayed at her bedside
until 8:45 when she took her last breath. I held her hand and rested my head on
her arm. My sister sat on the other side of the bed and together we prayed for
her. I hope that at some level she knew. Her chest heaved with effort but I
felt the change when her body stopped trying so hard and signalled my sister.
Together, we cried as we held her and felt her last breath.
My Mom died yesterday. For years I called
my Mom every day to say hello and tell her I loved her. I went to the hospital
every day (except the first two days of my brother’s visit) of the nineteen
days that she was in the hospital. Every time I had the opportunity, I told her
I loved her and through the haze of narcotics, sometimes it registered,
sometimes it probably didn't. I know that she knew that I loved her and she
always told me that she appreciated everything that Mark and I did for her. It
will never feel like it was enough because I could not love her back to health.
At the same time I know that barring the occasional emotional outburst with
her, I did good and I loved her good, and I helped to ease her to the other
side.
My Mom died yesterday. It hurts. Maybe it
hurts less because I could be there so much for the last ten years or maybe
more because I could be there so much for the last ten years. I always
regretted not being able to tell my Dad that we would look after Mom. So I did
the next best thing. I looked after Mom. And one day came too soon.
My Mom died
yesterday. It isn't
real yet. And I don't know what I am supposed to do now. I feel like curling up
in my Mom's lap and letting her tuck my scraggly hair behind my ears. I would
change my annoying shoes, style my hair, listen to her everyday worries that
were so big to her and yet seemingly minor to the rest of the world, and I
would sit with her through more of the weekly sing-along with 'Howdy Doody or
similar'. But that won't happen again and I have to look after her finances and
be there for my siblings as much as they are there for me. I will do what I
have to do and hope that no one sees my pain and despair and worse, be tempted
to offer sympathy which would undo my facade.
My Mom died yesterday. There is a crippling
pain in my heart and many tears and memories. I keep seeing her smile, her
voice, her words telling me that it is okay. But how can that be true? My Mom
died yesterday.
I love you Mom.
