A year in the making

So, I’ve been waiting for this day to come.  Waiting a year, to be exact.

This is the first anniversary of my mom’s death.

I’m doing ok.  No, really.  It sucks to high hell that my mommy is gone, but I’m gonna be ok.  I am ok.

I still say things using the present tense…as if she’s still with us.  "My parents’ house" is a common one.

The truth is, her body betrayed her in the end.  And we always knew and accepted that it was wonderful that she got to go on her own terms, in her own time.  She wasn’t stuck on life support unable to make her wishes known to us.  She wasn’t going to suffer and endure what would inevitably be a long and painful death.  She said, "ok, I’m done.  Let’s get this process started".  And that’s what happened.  Her wishes in her timeframe.  I wish this kind of death experience for more terminally ill people.

A year ago on Thursday afternoon I arrived in Madison for what I knew would be the beginning of the end.  She was on a respirator, so we could only read her lips.  Which was incredibly frustrating for all of us.  We began speaking with the Palliative Care Team – social workers and chaplains to help us prepare emotionally & spiritually for helping her carry out her final wishes. 

Just as she had all our lives, our mommy was concerned about us.  She repeated over and over again to my dad that he needed to "take care of us".  She gave him directives about the house and the wills and the money.  She was worried about our futures and our emotional well-being.  "Take care of us" and "Take care of eachother" was repeated over and over again.

I sent my daddy back to his hotel for the night & I spent the night in the "sleeping chair" in her room.  I talked with her all night long while she laid there – in pain and unable to sleep without medication.  She was really scared that the process would be painful.  We promised her that it would not.

A year ago on Friday we were waiting impatiently and fearfully for my brother to arrive in Madison.  There was a crazy blizzard and the drive was long and dangerous for him.  My mommy asked me over and over again where he was.  She just didn’t understand what was going on outside the room, no…the bed, where she was confined.  It took forever for him to arrive.  Dr. Chin (a saint of a man!) spoke with her once again to confirm her wishes.  He quietly informed us that a lung biopsy result had come back with lung cancer in addition to the recent discovery of stomach cancer.  He told us this to reassure us that if she hadn’t already chosen her path…that she had a very tough road ahead of her.  One that she wouldn’t win no matter how much medical intervention took place.  She would have almost no quality of life until these two very nasty & aggressive cancers would eventually take her life – quite painfully.

Boogie arrived.  We all took turns encouraging her and loving her and saying goodbye to her.  We wanted her to know that we supported her decision entirely.  That although we would miss her, we would be ok.  It was hard to be strong and say what needed to be said while trying not to cry.  She needed us to be strong.  We owed her that much.  She’d always been our rock.

Our mommy made it perfectly clear that there was someone waiting for her.  "Who’s that?" she asked us while pointing to an empty corner of the room.  From our conversation, we’re pretty certain that God was there to welcome her home.

I don’t remember the time, but Morphine arrived.  They doped her into oblivion to make sure that she would be comfortable.  There was to be no chance that she would wake-up in pain.  We watched her peacefully sleep.  When the doctors were satisfied that she was ready and that we were ready as well, he had us leave the room so that they could remove her breathing tube and other machinery.

When we came back to the room, we noticed that the Palliative Care Team placed a large window-cling sticker on the door of her hospital room – a large butterfly.  This would signal to all staff that "The Process" had begun.  The noise out in the hall immediately quieted.  Nursing staff didn’t congregate at the station outside her room.  It was all very kind and respectful. 

We figured that without the breathing assistance, she would pass quickly.  Oh no.  Not our little mommy.

We packed the room that night – Daddy, Boogie, The Big U, and myself all lounging in those awful sleeper chairs.  Not wanting to leave her alone, we made sure that there was always someone with her & we took breaks in shifts.

A year ago on Saturday, we were there.  Waiting with her.  Holding her hand.  Whispering to her that it was "ok to go" and that "we’d be ok".  From past experience (when she came out of a coma), we knew that she heard and listened to everything said around her.  We made sure that anyone who entered the room only be positive and encouraging about her passing.  Saving sad phone calls and progress reports to relatives from the waiting room.  We still made sure that she was never left alone.  We told funny stories about our family and the evening began to feel like a celebration of her life.  We managed to laugh a little.  Which was nice.  I’d spent much of the day trying to write her obituary. 

A year ago on Sunday December 3rd, we were still there.  (TBU had to leave – obligations back home.)  Getting a bit punchy and wondering why she was holding onto this world.  We continued to whisper "sweet nothings" into her ear.  Almost willing her to let go. 

I realized that at 6 months pregnant – I had nothing to wear to her funeral.  So I took a break and used the computer in the waiting room to hunt for something appropriate.  Boogie and my daddy came down and collected me for dinner.  I think it was the first time I left the hospital since arriving on Thursday.  We went to a wonderful diner and had some serious comfort food.  Conversation was hard to come by.  We just kept repeating ourselves by this point.  That and a lot of sighing.  Pass the pie, please.

When we returned to her hospital unit, we knew something was different.  The nursing staff at the desk looked at us funny.  Her primary nurse jumped up and grabbed us before we could get to her room.  I don’t remember the words, but we were told that she’d passed about 15 minutes ago.  It was about 8:45 pm.

It made me incredibly sad that my mommy had passed away all alone.  Not even a nurse in the room.  Even though I’d been holding vigil and saying my good-byes for days (no, months really), I felt like I should’ve been there.

Boogie told me that the reason he’d orchestrated our dinner out was so that she could be alone.  It was obvious to him that we were the reason she wasn’t letting go.

We entered the room and her body was still there in the bed.  It was weird, though.  When the soul leaves the body – it becomes painfully apparent that the body is nothing but a shell.  The body was there, but it wasn’t her.  She was gone.

We made our phone calls to let friends and family know.  Her sister, my Aunt Judy, told me that December 3rd was the 20th Anniversary of my Grandma’s death.  She died the same day as her mother.  We can joke about it amongst ourselves…that our mommy was probably getting cranky with us to leave the room so that she could get going.  She had a party to get to afterall.

Our mommy was cremated.  We haven’t spread her ashes in the ocean yet.  We’ll do it eventually, but we’re in no hurry.  Her ashes are in a lovely urn on the piano. 

I miss my mommy like crazy.  I am so sad that my children are deprived of knowing her.  Gus doesn’t even remember her.  Which breaks my heart.  Mattson was born with a special gift 3 months after her death.  A birthmark on the back of his neck which is identical to the one my mommy had on her neck.  I’m sure she kissed him there before sending him out to meet us.  Everytime I see it, I can’t help but kiss it and think of her.  I’m sure she’s watching over my children.  I hope she’d be proud of how they are turning out.

I think of her constantly.  I don’t cry anymore like I first did.  I see my grief counselor a few times a month to talk about my crazy family.

Boogie and I have been sorting through her clothing FOREVER.  We just can’t seem to deal with it & just get it done.  It just seems like such a FINAL step.

This has been The Year of Firsts – all those momentous dates that we had to experience without her for the first time. 

This summer I realized that a year ago she’d already gone to Madison for her kidney transplant.  Once she went in, she basically never came home (except for one weekend).  She was in Madison for 6 months before her death.  I hope that I don’t look at the calendar in this way every year.  That’s enough to drive a person nuts.

Boogie and I managed to pull together and host Thanksgiving this year.  It was kinda nice to make the "Family Standards" that she made for us all these years.  We weren’t even mopey.  We just enjoyed our meal together.

I had been dreading this first anniversary of her death.  The whole weekend timeline that I just laid out for you – from Thursday on.  I didn’t know how I’d react.  I just didn’t want to be a basketcase.  Thing is, I didn’t even "remember" until late Friday night.  And it shocked me that those days had nearly passed me unnoticed.  But maybe that’s how God protects us.  Because like I said…dwelling on all those dates and events is enough to drive a person nuts.

I think we’ll be ok.  We’re taking care of eachother – for the most part.  I think she’d be pleased.  I hope so, anyway.

My mommy – Homecoming Queen

I love you.  I miss you.  See you, soon.

I Wish You Were Here by Mark Harris

Verse 1
I wanted to tell you how closely I’ve kept
The memories of you in my heart
And all of the lifetimes that we’ve had to share
Live even though we’re apart

But don’t cry for me
‘Cause I’m finally free

Chorus:
To run with the angels
On streets made of gold
To listen to stories of saints new and old
To worship our Maker
That’s where I’ll be
When you finally find me

Verse 2
No don’t you be weary cause waiting for you
Are wonders that you’ve never knownJust hold on to Jesus, reach out for His hands
And one day they’ll welcome you home

And that’s when you’ll be
Finally Free
Finally Free

(Chorus)

I wish you we’re here 2x

Bridge
And all of the dreams that you treasure
Will soon come together
And that’s when your sorrow will find tomorrow
And you will rise again

(Chorus)

I wish you were here
I wish you were here