30 days…

November 15, 2008 at 11:00 pm 2 comments

It’s been 30 days since Mom died.  I am hurting badly tonight…I’ve been on the phone boo-hoo’ing with my Aunt Glenda, and then I called and boo-hoo’ed with my dad. 

The day she died, I was emotionally bankrupt.  I started crying the minute I woke up that day and couldn’t stop.  By that evening, I knew I couldn’t take any more.   The doctors were discussing the possibility of putting her on dialysis the next morning, a decision my dad would have to make.  Before I went to the hotel to catch a few hours sleep so that I could spend the night with my mom while the others slept, I called my dad outside the room.  I told him that whatever decision he made, I would support him completely—but that I couldn’t take any more of that hospital.  I assured him I would sleep a few hours, then come back and stay the night with her, but that I would be leaving the next day to come home. 

I called my sisters aside and explained the same thing to them.  They knew from watching me sob uncontrollably all day that I was emotionally devastated and needed to come home.  I said goodbye to Mom and told her how much I loved her, then left there about 9:00 and went to the hotel, promising to return in a couple of hours.  I cried myself to sleep about 9:30.

During the time I was gone, some of the family went downstairs at the hospital to discuss dialysis.  Would Mom be strong enough?  Would it be permanent?  Had she had a stroke?  (We strongly suspected but weren’t sure…)  Would Mom have wanted to go home on oxygen and on dialysis—and maybe paralyzed if she HAD had a stroke? My dad knew he would have a hard decision to make in the morning. 

At 10:15, my cell phone rang.  It was my sister Sherri.  She said, “You may want to come back up to the hospital.  I think we’re all going home tomorrow.”  I was completely calm—almost like I was a different person than when I had laid down.  There were no tears. 

I got on the elevator at the hotel three minutes after Sherri called.  As I did, my cell phone rang again.  This time it was my pastor.  He had been home in bed when he told his wife, “I need to get up and call Rita.”  God was working in a big way during those few minutes…  I drove to the hospital—still no tears.  I knew this leg of our journey was over and as odd as it sounds, I felt relieved. 

When I got to the hospital, I learned that while they were dowstairs discussing dialysis, Mom’s blood pressure had fallen way off.  They returned upstairs in time to see the nurse getting ready to hang another bag of medication, but they stopped her…just told her “No more.”

We all gathered in her room and did the things she had wanted done during her final hours.  We sang.  We read scripture. We prayed.  We held her hand.  We kissed her forehead.  We talked with her.  We assured her we loved her.  We wept.

The wound is still painfully raw.  It still hurts so badly to wake up each morning and know that I can’t call her…to know that I can’t go see her…to know that her chair at the table is empty.  Nothing in my life will ever hurt this badly.  Nothing.


Entry filed under: Sometimes life sucks....

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2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Cheri  |  November 15, 2008 at 11:27 pm

    It’s funny because I was having a full blown pity party today and I read your blog and didn’t feel so alone. I was walking down the aisle in the store remembering when I used to hurry so i could get home before Dennis did so I could have supper on. The excitement of seeing his truck coming through the park. You are right there is nothing that hurts as bad, but our time here is so brief even though it seems long. Rita, your mom of all people would want you to live life to the fullest and full of joy. Remember it’s not a feeling it’s a decision. Jesus come quickly!!! Love you.

  • 2. okwriter2  |  November 17, 2008 at 7:30 am

    Thanks, Cheri. My dad said he thanks God every single day for taking Mom home.
    I am going to start doing, that, too, even though there may be some days when I move my lips and say the words but not really, really mean them…


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