Life (that all encompassing word)

September 22, my mom died. Sometimes we say passed, went home to be with the Lord. All are true but for this moment I will say died. I think died is the harshest sounding word and for my life it has been the harshest event. I think. More on that later.

She fell. I was not informed for a few days that she fell. That hurts. And she just kept going down hill after that. She fell on her hands and knees. Hurt her shoulder, and bruised her knees and palms badly. She gave it her all after that, but never regained her strength. She was one strong woman. Why can't I be like her? Her fall was in July and by September she slipped away. Mom died.

Tears fall so easily, always right on the edge of my eyes for her. Why can't I be stronger?

She was the boss. We kids dared not go against her. Until that day when we had too. She needed to be seen by a doctor. We knew it for days even weeks. But she would not leave the house. Until that day we had done enough guessing, protected her wishes too long. We were ready to go against her for her own good, we thought. We found a doctor who would come to the house and assess her. That was not easy to find one. He gave us hope. Maybe it was just dehydration and electrolytes he told us, that is easy to fix. Call an ambulance to transport her to the hospital and it may just be as simple as that. It was not. We did finally call an ambulance that night. We took a vote, the three of us did. We had to error on hope. We sort of argued our points with one another what "mom always wanted" and what "if" we did nothing. What a struggle in our hearts!


We weren't doctors. She was white as snow, hair ringing wet with sweat for days. Could not stay awake. Moaned in her sleep. We knew she would be mad. She was but handled it with grace and jokes along the way. She knew, as we did, if she left she may never come home. We always wanted to give her what "she always wanted" to die at home like her own mother and my dad. Both in that back bedroom. Death what an ugly thing this side of heaven.

We called the ambulance. Asked for no siren. When the paramedics arrived, it she refused to go they could not take her. They talked to her with such concern and kindness and with a child like helplessness, she agreed. With my dear brother at her side all the way, we knew as she knew she may NEVER come back home. Her home sweet home. With her wit in the ambulance, strapped to the stretcher, she looked at my brother and said something like "you think I should run?" My poor brother, he has to bear the burden of the memory of the ambulance ride for the rest of his life. He loved and cared for her faithfully every day as she did FOR him in the best way she could until she couldn't anymore.

She always told us kids to put a hat on our heads to go out in the cold. As she lay on the stretcher I ran to her drawer to get a scarf and draped it over her wet head to not allow her to go out of the house in the chilly fall night. I laid her afghan over her lap to give her something from home to see in that sterile place. We girls prayed that the Lord let her come home. I prayed and did my best. It was not to be. She was too weak, too sick. That dumb fall. She tripped on her oxygen cord. Stupid thing. Why Lord?

Her last night at home, the previous night, both my sister Judy and I were there. We took turns with her during the night. If she was up sitting on the edge of the couch, we were too. She slept on her couch since being put on oxygen sometime in 2007after dad died. With her oxygen cord and machine, that was the easiest. She could flip from side to side, watch t.v., reach the phone, have the ceiling fan on. Every night, usually my brother would make the couch up with a cool sheet and a blanket for the last 2 years. She would undo it herself in the morning, except lately.

Her last night, as she lay with her back to me and me sitting on the floor beside her head I told her how much I loved her and that she was the best mom in the whole world and apologized for working so much to get out of debt and cried like a baby. She said the most wonderful thing in the world back to me that every child wants to hear. She told me she loved me amongst other things. I knew beyond a doubt her words were her final gift to me. I am 54 years old and can be reduced to a child like state in a second thinking about my mom and dad. Why?

In ER they determined she had pneumonia and her white count showed infection. She also had half the amount of blood she was supposed to have. They transfused her with an IV, antibiotics and blood on the slowest drip possible as to not tax her system and throw her into more congestive heart failure (she had that too, and was a diabetic) but it was not to be. Her color came back for a day and gave her a little boost enough to tell us each she loved us. Precious. Her kidneys began to shut down. No output in her bag. What a sinking feeling. No turning back. Helpless.

We were in "her" hospital. The one where she had various surgeries, visited newborns, and had a million tests done through out her life. The one that had the best gift shop where she would shop each and every time, always stopping at the baby clothes. Didn't matter how old she was or if she had anybody to buy for. She always look at the baby clothes admiring the smocking and fine details on the dresses. My mom had an eye for fine details and it gave her joy to look. I can see her now looking through the little dresses on the wall of the gift shop and checking out the baby blankets. I wonder what she was thinking each and every time. Why didn't I ask her? I'd ask her so many things now, of course.

On September 22 my world caved in. Never to be the same. I felt utter devistation. Unlike when my dad died. I still had mom.

Then September 23 arrived. I was walking out to my car to go make funeral arrangements with my sister and brother when my husband drove up. He approached me and said he quit his job. More devistation.