New sadness evokes an old wound
Tomorrow, May 26, would have been my Mother's 81st birthday. She has been gone since I was 12 - August 17, 1978. It's strange that only twice a year I recall, with amazing clarity, every moment leading up to losing her.
Fast forward to the present. I had a neighbor that I lived next door to for almost 10 years. We didn't become close friends till 4 years ago. But, once the bond was made, we were always there for each other. Two years ago, Barbara was diagnosed with breast cancer. She lived alone, widowed and 70 years old, children over an hour away, and she was ready to kill herself when she got the news. Luckily, she had called me and we spoke for over an hour about her diagnosis. I was relieved that she decided to fight it.
She fought valiantly, but it always seemed like she wasn't able to completely have the cancer disappear. After I moved, I still called her frequently. Just last week, I went to the hospital to see her. They found out through an emergency hip surgery that her cancer had spread all over. I spoke to her after bringing her sunflowers, and she told me how tired she was and that she just wanted to go to heaven and be with her daughter who died of severe hydrocephalia at two years old. She also was relieved that I didn't bring Xander. She loved him like a grandson, and didn't want him to see her that way.
Well, today while driving home from Wal Mart with Xander, I had a strong unsettling urge to call her at home. She was home. Also, she was dying. Unresponsive to everyone, though she could communicate with her squeezing her eyes tightly. She could hear but not respond. Her children were there and said that it would be wonderful if I could come to say goodbye.
I took Xander to my neighbor and asked for 30 minutes to visit Barbara. Luckily, I have the world's best neighbors and they readily took Xander in. When I got there the room was filled with a hospital bed, oxygen equipment, IV drip of morphine and a kind hospice nurse. She looked so different, even from when I saw her last week. Though, she still had her favorite earrings on.
Here is where life created a huge, deep sadness in me. You see, when my Mother slipped into a coma, I was dragged out of the hospital she was in. They didn't feel I could "handle" it. I guess it was fine that I took care of her in every other aspect on my own, but I wasn't worthy of saying goodbye to my Mother. It devestated me, but I had tried to put it in the past.
As I stood at her side I told her so much of how I felt about her, what she meant to me, all that I have learned from her years of wisdom. I also longed to make her smile inside and told her some inside "jokes" that made her scrinch up her eyebrows in such a way that I knew she was smiling. Told her too that my prayers for her will never end and I will never forget her and what she means to me. I felt her hand try to hold my thumb. I kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and, finally, her hand. Her face was so searingly hot, and her arms were like ice. Her breath was coming in so ragged and difficult even with the oxygen and pain medication.
I held it together while standing there, and finished by telling her that this wasn't a goodbye but a "see you someday" as I hope she'll help to greet me someday when it was my time to join her and my other loved ones in heaven. Nobody had a dry eye, but I had to. I couldn't bring her down. I promised her that I would give a kiss to her little red-headed "grandson" that she grew to love over the years.
As I walked out of the room, I felt my heart just break apart. Nothing left of me at that point but tears. I was in a combination of grief: one for the present, one for the past of a young girl left motherless without any closure.
I am sitting here after 11 p.m. and I wonder if Barbara is in heaven now. I don't want to call. I know they have all my information and will let me know. I have a feeling she will pass away on my Mother's birthday.
I guess I was already very sad about my friend from Wales going home yesterday, and losing such an amazing woman to that horrible, vile disease, that the memories of almost 29 years ago feel as fresh and deep as if I turned into the frightened and helpless 12 year old girl who was not allowed to say goodbye.
I miss Barbara already, and I miss my Mother always. I miss Michelle not being her, as she is always so supportive in how I feel.
I know time heals all wounds, but I really believe that all it takes is a jarring loss to happen to open up that wound. I feel like I could cry 24/7right now, but my family needs me. Plus, I can just hear Barbara telling me to knock it off and get in the house to take care of both my handsome redheads (she always thought Cliff was a hottie). I told her that I was going to let him know that now. Her one daughter swore she could see the faintest of an impish grin on her face. What an incredible woman.
I wish I wasn't in between checks right now. I would love to travel to St. Augustine to the Greek Church Grotto and light candles for both Barbara and my Mother. Gas is so expensive, and I'll have to do something here.
Any ideas? I pray every day, but I want to do something special. I feel so drained right now, and a bit useless. Barbara is surrounded by family that are holding her hand to guide her to her place in heaven, and there really isn't a place for me there. If I could travel into the past, I would not have left my Mother's side no matter how much my family hollared and screamed. But, as they say, hindsight is always 20/20. I didn't have half the nerve as I do now. I was a rather shy 12 year old.
My Dad invited some strange woman over his house again tonight for a sex romp, so I know he won't have my Mother on his mind. I took my many evening medications so I may sleep like a log tonight. Without it, I'd probably go mental.
Tonight there are special prayers for Barbara and her family. I miss you, Mom, too. I wonder what you would think of who/what I grew up to be? I hope I didn't disappoint you. I love you.
Fast forward to the present. I had a neighbor that I lived next door to for almost 10 years. We didn't become close friends till 4 years ago. But, once the bond was made, we were always there for each other. Two years ago, Barbara was diagnosed with breast cancer. She lived alone, widowed and 70 years old, children over an hour away, and she was ready to kill herself when she got the news. Luckily, she had called me and we spoke for over an hour about her diagnosis. I was relieved that she decided to fight it.
She fought valiantly, but it always seemed like she wasn't able to completely have the cancer disappear. After I moved, I still called her frequently. Just last week, I went to the hospital to see her. They found out through an emergency hip surgery that her cancer had spread all over. I spoke to her after bringing her sunflowers, and she told me how tired she was and that she just wanted to go to heaven and be with her daughter who died of severe hydrocephalia at two years old. She also was relieved that I didn't bring Xander. She loved him like a grandson, and didn't want him to see her that way.
Well, today while driving home from Wal Mart with Xander, I had a strong unsettling urge to call her at home. She was home. Also, she was dying. Unresponsive to everyone, though she could communicate with her squeezing her eyes tightly. She could hear but not respond. Her children were there and said that it would be wonderful if I could come to say goodbye.
I took Xander to my neighbor and asked for 30 minutes to visit Barbara. Luckily, I have the world's best neighbors and they readily took Xander in. When I got there the room was filled with a hospital bed, oxygen equipment, IV drip of morphine and a kind hospice nurse. She looked so different, even from when I saw her last week. Though, she still had her favorite earrings on.
Here is where life created a huge, deep sadness in me. You see, when my Mother slipped into a coma, I was dragged out of the hospital she was in. They didn't feel I could "handle" it. I guess it was fine that I took care of her in every other aspect on my own, but I wasn't worthy of saying goodbye to my Mother. It devestated me, but I had tried to put it in the past.
As I stood at her side I told her so much of how I felt about her, what she meant to me, all that I have learned from her years of wisdom. I also longed to make her smile inside and told her some inside "jokes" that made her scrinch up her eyebrows in such a way that I knew she was smiling. Told her too that my prayers for her will never end and I will never forget her and what she means to me. I felt her hand try to hold my thumb. I kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and, finally, her hand. Her face was so searingly hot, and her arms were like ice. Her breath was coming in so ragged and difficult even with the oxygen and pain medication.
I held it together while standing there, and finished by telling her that this wasn't a goodbye but a "see you someday" as I hope she'll help to greet me someday when it was my time to join her and my other loved ones in heaven. Nobody had a dry eye, but I had to. I couldn't bring her down. I promised her that I would give a kiss to her little red-headed "grandson" that she grew to love over the years.
As I walked out of the room, I felt my heart just break apart. Nothing left of me at that point but tears. I was in a combination of grief: one for the present, one for the past of a young girl left motherless without any closure.
I am sitting here after 11 p.m. and I wonder if Barbara is in heaven now. I don't want to call. I know they have all my information and will let me know. I have a feeling she will pass away on my Mother's birthday.
I guess I was already very sad about my friend from Wales going home yesterday, and losing such an amazing woman to that horrible, vile disease, that the memories of almost 29 years ago feel as fresh and deep as if I turned into the frightened and helpless 12 year old girl who was not allowed to say goodbye.
I miss Barbara already, and I miss my Mother always. I miss Michelle not being her, as she is always so supportive in how I feel.
I know time heals all wounds, but I really believe that all it takes is a jarring loss to happen to open up that wound. I feel like I could cry 24/7right now, but my family needs me. Plus, I can just hear Barbara telling me to knock it off and get in the house to take care of both my handsome redheads (she always thought Cliff was a hottie). I told her that I was going to let him know that now. Her one daughter swore she could see the faintest of an impish grin on her face. What an incredible woman.
I wish I wasn't in between checks right now. I would love to travel to St. Augustine to the Greek Church Grotto and light candles for both Barbara and my Mother. Gas is so expensive, and I'll have to do something here.
Any ideas? I pray every day, but I want to do something special. I feel so drained right now, and a bit useless. Barbara is surrounded by family that are holding her hand to guide her to her place in heaven, and there really isn't a place for me there. If I could travel into the past, I would not have left my Mother's side no matter how much my family hollared and screamed. But, as they say, hindsight is always 20/20. I didn't have half the nerve as I do now. I was a rather shy 12 year old.
My Dad invited some strange woman over his house again tonight for a sex romp, so I know he won't have my Mother on his mind. I took my many evening medications so I may sleep like a log tonight. Without it, I'd probably go mental.
Tonight there are special prayers for Barbara and her family. I miss you, Mom, too. I wonder what you would think of who/what I grew up to be? I hope I didn't disappoint you. I love you.