My Mother died on July 2, 2008, about 3:30 in the morning.
About 3:00, I crawled into bed. It felt like only a moment later when my Father came into my room. His exact words -- "I think she's gone." Five months of waiting, anxiety, fear, and desperation had brought us to this one moment in time.
It was pitch black outside. The house was still. The lights dim.
My Mother was gone.
I can still see her. She laid on the twin bed we had brought in, making it easier on us to take care of her. The cancer had taken its toll. Her neck and chest all red and swollen. Her skin pale. She looked old, not like the young vibrant Mother I had once known.
That moment changed my life. I didn't bother holding back. I cried, slumped down on the floor right beside her. I reached up to touch her arm. To this day, I can still feel her arm. It was ice cold. What a horrific feeling to remember. Not something I want to remember during that moment.
It was all over. No more feeding tube. No more coughing up phlegm. No more bottles of liquid pain killer. The anxiety of waiting for this moment ended.
Seventy-three years accumulated to this final moment.
July 2nd. Two days before my birthday.
Funny how the Fates, God, Allah, whoever had planned it. Thirty-eight years earlier plus two days, she said "Hello." Thirty-eight years later minus two days, I said "Goodbye."
CSM
About 3:00, I crawled into bed. It felt like only a moment later when my Father came into my room. His exact words -- "I think she's gone." Five months of waiting, anxiety, fear, and desperation had brought us to this one moment in time.
It was pitch black outside. The house was still. The lights dim.
My Mother was gone.
I can still see her. She laid on the twin bed we had brought in, making it easier on us to take care of her. The cancer had taken its toll. Her neck and chest all red and swollen. Her skin pale. She looked old, not like the young vibrant Mother I had once known.
That moment changed my life. I didn't bother holding back. I cried, slumped down on the floor right beside her. I reached up to touch her arm. To this day, I can still feel her arm. It was ice cold. What a horrific feeling to remember. Not something I want to remember during that moment.
It was all over. No more feeding tube. No more coughing up phlegm. No more bottles of liquid pain killer. The anxiety of waiting for this moment ended.
Seventy-three years accumulated to this final moment.
July 2nd. Two days before my birthday.
Funny how the Fates, God, Allah, whoever had planned it. Thirty-eight years earlier plus two days, she said "Hello." Thirty-eight years later minus two days, I said "Goodbye."
CSM
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