Monday, January 18, 2010

I don't want to forget....

(I made the text black in case anyone who reads this would have a hard time reading about my mother's death. The following is not horrible in any way, but I don't want to trigger things for people who are sensitive to these things...if you scroll over and highlight it can be read)

and I am now able to write about it. I need to because I will forget the amazing parts if I dont.

I went to my sister's house on Weds. My sister had to make a decision whether or not to put mom in full hospice or keep her in palliative other sibs and me agreed with her on hospice, and that is what she did. The hospice nurse came over that day and arranged someone to be there all night with my sister could sleep and so the nurse could monitor how to best keep mom comfortable. mom was not ready to die. She was only 67 and before this stupid leukemia she was an active, vibrant woman who seemed years younger than she was. When she finally came to terms with the fact she could die she said she wanted to die at home with family, and to be comfortable.

She slept a lot on Weds but had periods of being really agitated. The nurse gave her some morphine and ativan to keep any pain away and keep her calm.

I didn't really sleep that night, I kept sitting by mom and memorizing her and holding her hand.

Thursday morning she was pretty awake...and talking a bit, though she got stuck on words and would stutter a lot. She told me she loves me, she will miss us and to tell everyone that she loves them. She tried to hug my brother so he hugged her and she said "I love you sweetheart" gave him a kiss and then proclaimed God Bless America! (we have no idea where that came from, it was weird, but kept us laughing and still does)

I talked to her a lot, and told her I love her, and will miss her but we will be ok. I reassured her that my bro..her baby...would be ok...and that he was starting a new career with the company my husband works with and would be a success. I told her that I forgive her for my childhood and everything else, and that she could feel free in that. I promised her that I would keep her legacy going after she is myself and my children to the best of my ability.

After our conversations she slipped into a deep sleep. Her face become very relaxed and peaceful looking. I knew she would die that night or in the morning, but I felt that I had to leave. This was at 10pm. I stroked her hand and tried to remember how they felt and looked, I kissed her head and breathed in her scent, I told her I loved her again...and then I redid it all over again in order to remember this moment....the very last time I would ever touch my mother, kiss her, smell her, and tell her I love her. She had been sleeping and I told her I had to husband was with me...and she breathed out what sounded like uh-huh...I said it again, she said it again. I took another moment to do all the things I would never do again...and I left. For some reason I felt that I was not to be there when she did go...I was with my father, I got there a few minutes before he died..I told him I love him and that I would be fine, and it was time for him to go, then hugged him...he took his last breath..and a sunbeam came through the window and shone on him.

My sister called me at 6:45 on Friday and told me she died at 6:42 am. She and my brother were there with her...our other sister had left at 6am. My sister asked me if I needed to see mom, and if she should wait to call the funeral home....but I told her I didnt and to just go ahead.

This has been a 17 month long roller coaster ride....and now it has ended. Im left feeling raw, like a hole has been blasted through my stomach, happy, relieved, sad, and almost elated at times. It is very strange


Mat said...

Thank you so much for sharing this. I grieve with you in spirit, and remember her, you, and your family in my prayers.

Karen said...

It's strange because I felt something similar that it was the worst and best thing to happen in my life. I couldn't and can't explain that any more today then I could then. But I still deeply miss my mother and would take all the best things back to see her and talk with her one more time.

Anyway, this is a wonderful story. A beautiful one. I'm so glad you don't have any regrets ..except maybe small ones that you couldn't do anything about anyway, even had she lived. But she loved you (and America, too :)).

There's never enough time.