Six Years Ago Today
Six years ago today, my mom died.
At 12:55 am, she took her last breath surrounded by her family and her best friend. By this point, we were all in shock, bone tired, and yes... even relieved. Watching her struggle to breath on her own for over seven hours... is not something I would wish on my worst enemy.
We were all silent. The machines in the hospital room were silent. It was over. She was gone.
A nurse led all of us to a little room where a staff member came in to talk to us about a few matters - one of which was organ donation.
My mother's entire body was so ravaged by cancer that none of her organs were viable for donation, except her corneas. My aunt said no. I pointed out that my grandfather (my mom's dad) was able to see because he'd had a cornea transplant a few years earlier. She relented. Someone else can see because of my mom.
Basic funeral arrangements were discussed. I would have liked her to be cremated and had her ashes scattered at the lake house. My aunt strongly wanted her buried. My dad didn't really have an opinion.
My mom and I had discussed funerals and such before... her only comment was the funerals were for the living. She didn't really care if she was cremated or buried. So I let my aunt have her way. (And I partially regret that... it hurts me to know that no one visits her grave.)
By this time, it was past 2 in the morning. We realized there was nothing left to do, and that we should all go home. We hugged, and cried, and went our separate ways to our cars. I made my way to the emergency room parking (it felt like it had been days since I'd pulled into that parking lot), got into my car and cried harder than I had all day. I have no idea how long I sat there crying.
I drove home, walked into my empty condo and just sat on my bed - alternating between numb and intense despair.
Buffy: Was it sudden?
Tara: What?
Buffy: Your mother.
Tara: No. Yes... it's always sudden.
This exchange has always resonated with me. My mom's death something I should have been prepared for, but it still caught me completely off guard.
What always amazes me is how life just went... on. Even the day she died. I got up, my family gathered, and we did things like picking out a casket and headstone, selecting an outfit for her to wear. There were lots of tears, but I will always remember the laughter as well. Even with this immense loss, we found humor. And it's what kept us sane.
RIP, Mom.
At 12:55 am, she took her last breath surrounded by her family and her best friend. By this point, we were all in shock, bone tired, and yes... even relieved. Watching her struggle to breath on her own for over seven hours... is not something I would wish on my worst enemy.
We were all silent. The machines in the hospital room were silent. It was over. She was gone.
A nurse led all of us to a little room where a staff member came in to talk to us about a few matters - one of which was organ donation.
My mother's entire body was so ravaged by cancer that none of her organs were viable for donation, except her corneas. My aunt said no. I pointed out that my grandfather (my mom's dad) was able to see because he'd had a cornea transplant a few years earlier. She relented. Someone else can see because of my mom.
Basic funeral arrangements were discussed. I would have liked her to be cremated and had her ashes scattered at the lake house. My aunt strongly wanted her buried. My dad didn't really have an opinion.
My mom and I had discussed funerals and such before... her only comment was the funerals were for the living. She didn't really care if she was cremated or buried. So I let my aunt have her way. (And I partially regret that... it hurts me to know that no one visits her grave.)
By this time, it was past 2 in the morning. We realized there was nothing left to do, and that we should all go home. We hugged, and cried, and went our separate ways to our cars. I made my way to the emergency room parking (it felt like it had been days since I'd pulled into that parking lot), got into my car and cried harder than I had all day. I have no idea how long I sat there crying.
I drove home, walked into my empty condo and just sat on my bed - alternating between numb and intense despair.
Buffy: Was it sudden?
Tara: What?
Buffy: Your mother.
Tara: No. Yes... it's always sudden.
This exchange has always resonated with me. My mom's death something I should have been prepared for, but it still caught me completely off guard.
What always amazes me is how life just went... on. Even the day she died. I got up, my family gathered, and we did things like picking out a casket and headstone, selecting an outfit for her to wear. There were lots of tears, but I will always remember the laughter as well. Even with this immense loss, we found humor. And it's what kept us sane.
RIP, Mom.