Two years ago tonight, I was going about my business of cleaning up the kitchen, putting the kids to bed, folding laundry. I had this huge weight hanging over my head, the fact that my mom was dying, but this night two years ago I forgot about all that and got lost in the simplicity of my weeknight routine. All of that was shot to hell when I got "THE" call - the call that I had been anticipating for about two weeks, the call that put me on edge every time the phone rang, the call that I finally figured wasn't going to happen on this mundane weeknight. Then it did.
It was 12:30am, June 3, 2010. I shot out of bed and said, "Oh shit." I knew what a call at this time meant and I was completely caught off guard. That's the funny thing about waiting for someone to die. You think you are totally prepared, you get tired of waiting and then the shoe drops catching you by surprise. I got the call. I got in the car. I drove like a bat out of hell.
I remember exactly what I was wearing. I remember hitting every green light in my path. I remember the gas gauge reading "72 Miles to Empty" when I left Ridgewood and somehow I managed to make the over 90 mile drive without running out of gas. I remember walking into Mom and Dad's house and every light was on, but no one was downstairs. I remember walking into their bedroom and I remember every detail of watching my mother die. I really wish I could let that memory go.
The one thing I will say about my Mom's untimely departure from this earth is that she fought like hell not to leave while anyone was watching. Mimi was so damn proud, she couldn't even die with us in the room. The hospice nurse was amazing and gave Mom so many drugs it would have put a thoroughbred down four times over. Mom would have none of it. It wasn't until she was restful and quiet and we left her alone that she would finally let go. She just didn't want to do it while we were in the room. I am really glad she handled it that way.
I have said before that I am very thankful I could be there when Mom finally left, and I truly am. But the part of it all that haunts me so much is coming to the realization of how sick she really was. Mom powered through the last six months of her life putting on a brave face and enduring more pain than I can ever imagine. She didn't want anyone to feel sorry for her, dote on her or worry about her. She was always like that - putting everyone else first, to the detriment of her own health sometimes. She was the consummate caregiver and until the very end, she never gave us a reason to care for her. I just wish we had known how bad it was before it got so bad. I wish she would have let us comfort her the way she comforted us. I just really wish she was still here.
I am left with a lot of memories of my mom, the most harrowing of which is her last hours with us. I am also left with three great kids who hold on to their own memories of Mimi, and bring them up at the most random and perfect times. I am blessed that my children have these memories and they fight to keep them alive. Although my last memory of Mom is not my best, it is a memory nonetheless and it reminds me of what a strong, gracious and tough woman Mimi was.
Love you Mom.
