Reflections on the last few days.
25 September 2007I guess, more than anything…I’ve been keeping myself busy…going a mile a minute to avoid breaking down completely.
It’s been hellish just trying to organize and fit everything where it needs to be now. Mom’s death was both unexpected and expected. It was expected because, well, her disease was terminal. It was unexpected as she had seemed to be improving. She was actually supposed to come home Friday of last week. She was not in great shape, but she didn’t seem to be at deaths door either.
I stayed with her, all night, in her ICU room Friday night through Saturday morning. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. She was fighting, as hard as she could. To get up, to get out. Somewhere in her mind, I think maybe she felt if she got out of the hospital, she would be “better”. Watching her try to lift her leg, and make subtle movements to swing around and get out of bed…it was all in slow motion. What you or I would do to get out of a bed takes all of a second. She made minor and subtle movements, then an hour later, performed the next step. Only to have her leg fall, and then she had to start all over again.
My mother fought until the bitter end. During the night, she mumbled something, and was making a good effort at trying to sit up. I said “Mom, what are you doing?”, “Trying to get up” she replied. Considering she had a catheter, a stool bag, and about 50 gazillion telemetry wires coming off her, it wasn’t going to happen. I said to her “Mom, you can’t get up, you’re attached to all kinds of stuff”….it was then she spoke her last words: “Yes I CAN!”. It was that old argumentative tone of voice I knew. The “fuck you, ill do what I want” mode.
Sadly, she just collapsed. It was all too much for her.
And then, around 4 AM or so…I was struck with a sickening and mind crumbling sense of irony as the nurse came in to check on my mom. She told my mom she was just in here to check a few things. My mom didn’t respond, but then it struck me: the ICU nurses were speaking to my mother, the same way the nurses down the hall spoke to newborn infants. I thought about the fact that 14 years ago, down that very hall, Selphie was born. And I was sick. Is this what it all is? You go out of the world being spoken to like a child?
No, sometimes you go out of the world just as fragile, and helpless as a newborn.
These thoughts gave me great pause. At the time, it was a jumbled and powerful wave of emotion. It was so hard to take. My mind reeled with the knowledge that we leave nearly the same way we come in: blind, helpless, and without the presence of mind needed to grasp what’s going on. Our mothers are our first teachers. The ones we look to for guidance. And here was my mother, reduced to the fragile state we see in newborn children. It dawned on me that my brother and I were now the caretakers, the last guides on her road into what is next. The full circle nature of it all was too much, and while the nurses came in, turned and attended to my mother, I escaped outside for some air and a smoke.
I felt then, that the end was coming. I knew then, my mom was going to go. And while I have no regrets, and all my loose ends settled with my mom, it does not diminish the fact that now, I am without either of my parents. Any skinned knee I get in life will not be kissed and made better. And while I do not feel isolated or alone, I do feel a deep and profound sense of loss. My brother and I have never been “momma’s boys”. But, we were very close to our mother. She was irritating and moody at times, but she never spoke a hateful word to either of us. Not even in anger. I have gotten into some pretty bad trouble during the course of my childhood, and some trouble in my adult life, and she never even then, spoke a hateful word to me. My brother has gotten in trouble as an adult, and again…never a spiteful word.
My mother never “fixed” our problems for us. She just gave us what we needed to solve our own problems. But still, there is a serene comfort in your parents you can never find anywhere else in life. The kiss on the scraped elbow, the words of encouragement when you try something new. That is gone now. And while I do not need those things to survive, they were nice to have. And I will miss that.
I will miss my mom. I will miss her terribly for the rest of my life. She was always there for me. She was a very unique person. She fought for what she thought was right in her eyes. She took care of me, and as a single parent in the 1970’s, that was quite a feat. She went hungry sometimes to feed me when I was a little boy. She could have given me up for adoption, she could have exercised any number of options. But she didnt. At the age of 19, pregnant, with disapproving devout catholic parents, she went onward…she raised me. Time went on, and she found happiness with my dad, Rival’s father. And Rival came along. And she made us a home, and gave me family.
I will miss her greatly. But I will remember all of the things I had, rather than focus on what I no longer have.
So long mom, thanks for everything. Thanks for having a part in creating me, and the memories I hold.
Current Mood:
Relaxed & 
Thoughtful
