Thursday, May 16, 2013

It Washes Over Me

Sometimes the grief of losing my Mom washes over me and I feel like I can't breathe. I miss her so much. It's hard for me to believe I do not have her with me anymore. I wasn't there when she passed. I went home. The hospice nurse that we had said that mom's wait for everyone to leave before they will pass. That's what happened with my Gram. I thought that maybe that would happen with my Mom, but my sister was still there. The day that she had the vent removed I asked if I could have sometime with her by myself. To tell her how much I love her. To ask her if this was what she really wanted. To tell her that I didn't want her to go. Someone had come into her room and I didn't feel like I had that time to be alone with her. To prepare myself for what was happening. After that everyone came back into her room. There was a shift change and they were going to call us back once they were ready to remove the vent. Before we left the room though. I got out the notebook and pen and said it's now or never I need that potato salad recipe. Everyone laughed, but I was not leaving without it! They will thank me later. 

The next time I got to see her, the vent had already been removed. She was very scared and kept telling us to hurry with meds that would help her to relax. There was no talking to her after that. Just waiting for her to pass. My sister and I spent the night. My mom got sick twice. The first time it woke me up but I didn't know that the sound was. Then her nurse came in to check on her and it happened again. He cleaned her up and changed her sheets. I don't know how much sleep I got that night. I know a lot of the time I just sat there watching her. Hoping that we were doing the right thing. The cancer was to much to fight and she wouldn't live through it anyway, but I still wish we had tried. She was ready though. I was, and still not ready. The next morning we just hung out in her room. By 3 or 4PM. I just wanted to go home and shower. I told my sister to call if anything changed. I got a call a little before 10PM, saying she had past. That was it. My Mom had gone. I wasn't with her in her last moments. I went home. I didn't get a chance to say good bye just one last time. I went home. I will never have that time back. To tell her that I love her again. To be selfish and beg her not to leave.  

She was cremated a couple of days later. My sister has her ashes. I want them, but the hubby is weird-ed out by that. I looked into getting a small urn to put some of her ashes in or even a ring or a necklace.  I just have not done it yet. Everything has been pushed aside. I just can't bring myself to deal with it. I don't have anything of her. I would be one of "those people" that talk to her. My girls would think I went off the deep end. 

One of my memories of my Mom. She would have this cigarette case that she would put her cigarettes in. It had two pockets with twist closers. The big one, cigarettes. The smaller one the lighter, her licence, saver cards and cash. I would love to smell the tobacco and leather together.  It is sad to me that the memory that I have of her has to have cigarettes in it. 

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